


Putrid

by Singularity_Sin



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Atsumu and Osamu, Bed Sex, Bondage, Coming of Age, Confessions, Conflicting Feelings, Desperation, Dom Osamu, Dry Humping, First chapter is middle school centric then everything else is high school, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Hurt/Comfort, Incest, Jealousy, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Osamu and Atsumu, Osamu and Atsumu fight against their forbidden feelings, Sad, Secret Relationship, Sexual Content, Sexual Frustration, Sick Fantasies, Skirt Wearing kink, Slow Burn, Smut, confused feelings, miyacest, self hate, sick, sub atsumu
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-09
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 80,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25806685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Singularity_Sin/pseuds/Singularity_Sin
Summary: The Miya twins are in their last year of middle school; Atsumu, a novice in the art of romance, wishes to learn how to kiss in order to impress “some girl”.Osamu, struggling with feelings of self hate due to conflicting emotions for his brother, reluctantly offers a quick solution to his problem.OrOsamu teaches Atsumu how to kiss and it all spirals out of control.“I know a way you can get better quick,” Osamu began, mentally berating himself for this; sick and thrilled all in the same beat.Atsumu perked up, blinking. “You do?”“Yeah, but you gotta close yer eyes.”“Why?”“Just do it.”
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Miya Osamu
Comments: 570
Kudos: 843





	1. Chapter 1

It’s all Atsumu’s fault.

_Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!_

He’s the one who started _this_.

_Stroke! Stroke! Stroke!_

He only had himself to blame.

“Tsumu shut up!” Osamu growled, kicking the top bunk with his bare foot, a scowl on his face as his brother continued to pleased himself above him, not even a hitch in his work. “I’m tryin to sleep, dumbass.”

“S-shut up—just a little m-more…” Atsumu panted, head in his pillow. “I’m close.”

“Ugh, just hurry up,” Osamu groaned, pillow over his head, not in the mood to hear his brother jack off in the middle of the night; he always fucking did this, ever since that snot-nose kid showed them a porn magazine during lunch, Atsumu has been at it for weeks. Not even Osamu was this horny, not to mention he often found a quiet place to take care of himself—the shower, the bathroom, early in the morning when he knew his twin was out cold. Though it was hard finding time to himself since Atsumu and him were practically attached by the hip since birth. But it didn’t take a genius to figure out that wanking one off should be done in private, and not in front of someone.

But no, not Atsumu, his other half had no shame. Guess he figured they were twins so who cares, right? Or maybe his twin was less smart or concerned with concealing his sexual urges, or maybe a mixture of both. The problem was, he was keeping Osamu up from precious sleep and it was pissing him off.

“Ah,” Atsumu panted after his release, sweat dotting his forehead no doubt and making the bed creak with his movements. Then silence.

“Yer not gonna go wash?” Osamu accused.

“Nah, too lazy,” Atsumu mumbled, voice already swallowed by sleep.

“Fucking gross.”

“I’ll take a shower in da morning, geez.”

And so the rhythmic snores of his hyperactive brother filled the room, the bane of Osamu’s existence, his other half, his everything.

“Fuck it,” he sighed, snaking his own hand under his boxers and stroking himself. It was all Atsumu’s fault. Osamu couldn’t help his urges when he heard moaning, it was like his brain couldn’t distinguish the difference between a girl and his brother moaning because either one made him hard. Vaguely, he wondered if it was wrong, he’s sure it was. Jacking off to your twin brother? It’s disgusting, right?

“Hgn—“ The thought fueled his arousal, deepened his strokes as he thanked god Atsumu was a heavy sleeper. He nursed the thought of his brother, of those petulant eyes glaring at him, or his snarky smile whenever they conspired against someone or each other. Why was he thinking of him and not the girl in the magazine?

Osamu didn’t want to dwell on it. All he wanted was to chase after his momentary high and it didn’t matter if he imagined his brother or not, he convinced himself, as long as it stayed in his imagination it would be fine.

Right?

During lunch the next day, Atsumu wandered over to the same boy who’d introduced them to the porn magazine. The kid had straight, inky black hair, cut neatly in a bowl cut that didn’t let you see his eyebrows. Atsumu laid a hand over his shoulder, a clear sign that he wanted something from the kid and he was trying to act like his best friend. So obvious. Osamu rolled his eyes, but stuck to his twin because that’s what he did.

“Hey, you got more?” Atsumu prompted, getting right down to business.

“Yeah! I got a video too, you wanna see?”

That peeked both their interest, so the twins huddled around the kid who was one of the few in their grade to own a phone.

“Dont‘cha parents check yer stuff?” Osamu inquired, frowning, though internally he liked what he was seeing.

“Nah, they don’t give a shit as long as I’m not bothering them. Pretty cool, huh?”

“Hell yeah!” Atsumu agreed, pumping his fists. “Wish our parents would let us have a phone!”

Osamu thought the kid’s admission was honestly kind of sad, sounded like his parents just gave him that phone to shut him up. But it didn’t matter because after a couple of seconds the video played, and they sat transfixed watching the screen, trying not to get boners. Momentarily, Osamu’s eyes flicker over to his twin, who was practically drooling, pink twining his cheeks as his gaze never strayed from the video.

Osamu forced himself to look away.

By the end of the school day, Osamu lost Atsumu when his twin excused himself from their group of friends to go take a piss. Now, he couldn’t find him despite looking in the stalls.

 _‘What a pain in da ass,’_ Osamu thought, walking around the halls, checking each classroom for his identical twin. Where was he?

Then, he spotted him, that unmistakable black hair so identical to his own except where they parted it, those broad shoulders despite being in middle school. He spotted Atsumu out of the corner of his eye, outside and with...a girl. A girl? They were standing outside by a tree, Atsumu’s back turned towards him, and he could only slightly make out the girl's face.

What was that idiot doing?

Something in the pit of his stomach soured. A deepened glare pinched his face as he wandered outside and ambled straight to them.

“Oi, Tsumu, it’s time to go,” he called out, loud enough to be heard, not close enough to invade whatever privacy his twin was trying to keep. Atsumu twisted his head and glared at him, a blush dusting his cheeks and the sourness in the pit of Osamu’s stomach turned into acid. The girl had a similar blush on her face as she looked between the twins.

“Wait for me at the entrance, will ya?” Atsumu growled, not budging from his spot. It pissed off Osamu even more, so much so that he wanted to physically yank his brother out of there.

“I’m not getting in trouble with mom just cus ya wanna stay later than usual,” he countered, indignant, hands in his pocket.

“Goddammit, Osamu!”

 _Osamu_?

Why did he call him that and not Sumu? His usual nickname. Was this girl really that important?

“It’s okay, Miya-kun,” the girl spoke up, voice filled with honey as she ran up to his twin and gave him a quick hug. “I’ll see you tomorrow!”

Stunned, Atsumu blinked. “Okay, see ya.”

“Bye, Miya-kun.” She bowed next to Osamu, who only nodded curtly, tight lipped.

The walk back home was silent, both giving each other the cold shoulder. Osamu wasn’t sure why the atmosphere was tense around them, they’ve never fought over some girl, and certainly didn’t go more than a minute without talking to each other, be it an insult or an apology. His twin brother was being uncharacteristically standoffish right now, even during dinner he ate his food in silence, making their mother worry. Atsumu helped with the dishes like normal, sat and watched TV in the living room like normal, even brushed his teeth like normal, but it was everything but normal.

“Yer gonna make mom worry,” Osamu accused, freshly showered, staring at his brother who sat sulking on his top bunk.

“I ain’t making her do anything,” he retorted.

“Just get that stick up your ass out, then.”

“Me? You’re da one who’s giving me the silent treatment!”

“Only ‘cause ya got angry at me first.”

“I’m not fucking angry.”

“Sure sounds like anger to me.”

“Shut up, Osamu.”

That made his brows twitch. “Why ya calling me ‘Osamu’ all of a sudden?” He growled, making his way up to his twin’s top bunk.

“That’s yer name, ain’t it!?” Atsumu looked scandalized at the mere sight of his brother, backing up until his back hit the wall as Osamu climbed on top.

“Yeah, but it ain’t what _you_ call me.”

“Get yer paws off my bed, dumbass!”

“Why? Cuz you jizzed all over it?”

“Fuck you!”

“That’s all you’ve been doing lately, jackin’ off like grannie’s horny dog. You know how annoying that is? But instead of calmin’ down you’ve just gotten more irritable.”

“Why you watching me so closely huh?” Atsumu backed up further as his brother leaned in. “Got a crush on me or sum?”

“You’re literally attached to my hip, I almost ate you in the womb,” he threatened, caging him in, liking the look of desperation that settled on his twin’s face. “We practically have telepathy.”

“We’ll that ain’t give you the right to embarrass me in front of dat girl!” He growled, feeling a prick of courage and pushing his twin away, only to be met with a bit of resistance.

“Is that why you’re mad at me?” Osamu questioned, seizing both of Atsumu’s writs in his own, feeling the boy trying to tug away.

“Yeah, okay, that’s why I’m mad at ya!” Atsumu admitted with a harsh tug and a frown, turning away from Osamu, turning towards the wall like some petulant child.

“Well why didnt’cha ya just say something sooner,” Osamu signed, hands massaging his brothers shoulders, annoyed.

“I told ya to go away! Ya didn’t listen!”

“I meant afterwards, I didn’t know that girl meant that much to you,” he reasoned, almost wants to growl, but he swallowed the rock of jealousy, if only for his twin.

“She’s just a dumb crush,” Atsumu explained, leaning into his brothers touch until he laid flat against his twin’s chest. “Now she’s gonna think I’m lame.”

“I’m sure she already thinks that of ya.”

“Asshole.”

Osamu moved to leave, feeling his jealousy settle down to resignation as they reached the natural conclusion of their “fight”.

“Wait!” Atsumu chased after him, grabbing his wrist and placing it on his back. “More,” he demanded, making his twin roll his eyes.

“Lay on yer back then,” he commanded, straddling Atsumu’s back, sitting right on top of his bum as he began his handy work, knowing his brother’s needs better than anyone. Hearing his brother’s moans of approval made Osamu accept that this was the best thing he’ll ever get.

As promised, Osamu left Atsumu alone when he wandered off after school; part of him felt an ounce of dread and anxiousness being apart from his twin for more than a couple of minutes, but he fought the urge down as he waited for his brother in front of the school. He did that for a week straight, just standing there waiting, bothered that he was left alone for a bit. Though, he figured this was going to become a regular occurrence seeing as how they’re almost off to high school, it was only natural Atsumu started to take interest in finding a girlfriend and girls took interest in him. He was sure his twin would find a girlfriend soon, he was the more talkative one of the two after all.

“Miya-kun? Is that you?” A female voice said from behind him, a girl from his class, one he didn’t have with Atsumu.

He only nodded in response. What did she want? As far as he knew, they’ve only exchanged a couple words here and there.

“I’ve been seeing you just standing here after school—“

She’s been watching him? He lifts a brow.

“I mean—“ she stumbled, fidgeting in place, seemingly aware of what she just implied. “It’s hard not to notice, you're usually always around your brother. Where is he?”

Was she interested in Atsumu too? That bitter taste returned to his lips.

He flicked his head back, motioning with his eyes. “Atsumu’s back there, I’m waiting on em.”

“Oh, you're such a nice brother, waiting for him,” she smiled, hand bag behind her as she clutched at it with both hands, swaying side to side a little.

“He’s my twin,” he pointed out, as natural as breathing. “I hafta wait for him, unless I wanna get in trouble with mom.”

“Well, I just know a lot of siblings who don’t wait on each other, it’s kind of sad really. But you and Atsumu-kun seem to have a strong bond!”

Strong bond, huh? If only she knew the thoughts he’d nursed at night.

“Yeah, I guess.”

This was weird. Why was she talking to him so much? Was it to get close to his brother? That’s what most people did anyways.

“I-I can—uhm—wait with you if you’d like. Keep you company? I have to wait on my mom to pick me up.”

How odd. She was kind of cute though, he liked her low pigtails, and that fringe in her face.

“Sure,” he agreed, shrugging. “Yer mom picks you up?”

“It’s weird, right?” She stuck out her tongue, as if the thought physically affected her, tucking a strand of hair behind her head. “I’m one of the few students who don’t walk home. I want to walk but my mom says our house is too far away. She worries too much.”

He nodded. Seemed reasonable. “You’re a girl after all, it’s more dangerous if yer alone.”

“Wah! Not fair! Why can’t girls be seen as tough as guys?”

Osamu snickered, finding this girl really interesting. “Girls are tough!” He assured her. “But even guys walk in groups.”

“I guess you're right,” she pouted, cheeks filled with air and Osamu fought the urge to squish them. “Say, Miya-kun are you—“

“Samu!” A pinched voice said from behind, a hint of irritation laced between his tone Osamu knew who so well.

“Sup, Tsumu,” he called back, hands in his pocket as he turned to look at his twin.

They hear a gasp between them. “You look just alike!” The girl blinked. “Miya-kun! I didn’t know you were _identical_ twins!”

“Ya never asked.”

“Whose this?” Atsumu asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Girl in my class.”

“My name is Machi!” She announced, smiling bright. “Did you forget, Miya-kun?”

He had.

“Sorry,” he lamented, scratching the back of his head, turning to Atsumu who brushed up against him out of nowhere. What’s wrong with him?

“It’s okay—oh, my mom’s here! I’ll see you in class tomorrow Miya-kun!” She bowed. “It was nice meeting you,” she said, looking at Atsumu who looked impassive, lips pouting a bit.

“Likewise,” he grounded out, standing slightly behind Osamu, clutching the back of his twin’s jacket.

“Who was she?” Atsumu interrogated as soon as the girl was out of sight and they began their slow tred back home.

“I told ya, she’s a girl in my class.”

“ _Just_ a girl in yer class?”

“Yeah?”

“Looked like more to me.”

“Whatever, you’re one to talk.”

“Which is why I know what I saw! She likes ya!”

Osamu shrugged him off, annoyed to be under such scrutiny. “Maybe she does, who knows, I’m not thinkin about it.”

“She’s cute,” Atsumu began, thinking to himself. “Cute brown hair, long pretty eyelashes, I like long eyelashes.”

Osamu wondered vaguely if he had long eyelashes. He’s never checked.

“Dont’cha have a girlfriend?” He pointed out, glaring at his twin who walked without a care in the world, hands behind his head.

“Nah, I don’t, not yet.”

“You gonna get one soon?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

That brought back the sourness in his mouth, the rock in his stomach, and for the rest of the walk home he steered away from that topic. He didn’t want to hear it anymore. It only served to irritate him.

Later that night, Osamu’s on his bed, laying on his back while he read a book, the peaceful tranquility shattered when his brother barges in, freshly showered, high shorts hugging his tights, hair wet and mused by the towel around his neck.

“Samu?”

“Hm?”

“Do ya know how to kiss?”

That made him blink, though he didn’t put his book down.

“What are ya going on about?”

“Have you ever kissed anyone?”

“You know the answer to that.”

“Well, I thought maybe you’ve kissed someone behind my back and didn’t tell me.”

Osamu’s nose crinkled, fighting the urge to hide under the blankets and be done with this conversation. “Well I haven’t…” and then, “have you?”

Silence.

That bothered him.

His eyes found Atsumu, who had his back turned towards him, looking at something on their desk.

“Yeah...” he admitted, though his voice held little content.

Osamu finally put his book down, frowning. “That girl finally kissed ya?” He pushed down the sting of jealousy that overtook him. Stop. Stop. Stop.

“Yeah but—“ and Atsumu fiddled with something on the desk, still not looking at him, uncharastically shy. “I didn’t like it.”

Huh?

“You didn’t like it?” Was he feeling relief flooding his chest? No, stop.

“S’not that I didn’t like it—“ he corrected, finally turning and giving him a look of anguish, “it’s more like I didn’t know what the hell I was doing!”

Osamu’s shoulders slumped. “That’s normal, ya idiot.”

“Shut up! I felt so awkward! I hate that feeling! I hate the knot in my stomach!”

“It’ll go away eventually,” he affirmed, not entirely sure but knowing he had to say something. “The more you do it,” he added.

“Gahh!” Atsumu pulled at his dark hair, going over to Osamu’s bunk and flopping down, face first. “But it’s gonna be so awkward around her now! I want to be experienced already! Make her think I’m an expert kisser!”

“But yer not.”

“I know that!” He growled. “But I wish I could get experience faster! What if she thinks I’m terrible? What if she starts spreadin’ rumors about me? And by extension _you_!”

“Why me?” He blanched.

“Cus’ you have my fuckin’ face!”

“Literally no ones gonna make that connection.”

“But what if they do?? What if she’s laughing about me to her little friends? Gahhh!” Atsumu moaned into the sheets, grabbing fists full of the blanket. Osamu sighed, looking at the ceiling of his bunk bed; this was dangerous.

“I know a way you can get better quick,” Osamu began, mentally berating himself for this; sick and thrilled all in the same beat.

Atsumu perked up, blinking. “You do?” He beamed, stars in his eyes, looking so hopeful that it almost made Osamu feel bad.

“Yeah, but you gotta close yer eyes.”

“Why?”

“Just do it.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Fine, I’m not helpin then, stay awkward.”

“Wait! Okay, but shut them for me! It’s hard for me to keep them shut for a long time.”

Osamu hated the pang of need and excitement that bubbled up in his stomach at the request. He felt so dirty, so sinful and disgusted with himself but he couldn’t stop, not even when he blinded his brother with his own hand, covering his eyes so he wouldn’t see. And then he leaned in, pressing his lips against Atsumu’s for a full second before his twin wrenched back, hitting his head against the wall.

“What the hell!” He yelled.

Osamu forced the nerves down, looking unfazed, as if he’d simply pinched his brother’s nose. “You said ya wanted to get experience overnight, right? This is how you do it. We hafta practice on each other.”

Instead of anger, Atsumu looked utterly confused, conflicted almost. “I-Is that really okay?”

“Probably not but who has to know, right?” Osamu shrugged. “We share everything—food, ice cream, drinks—those are all indirect kisses, might as well do this,” he reasoned, watching his twin contemplate this. “Plus, ya wanna impress that girl, right? I can cover yer eyes so you can imagine her. It’s just for practice.”

Atsumu blinked, actually pondering this, which caught his brother by surprise. He was so sure his twin would outright reject him, call him disgusting. Stupid. Crazy.

He called himself that, after all.

“Grab my scarf,” Atsumu instructed, pointing to the closet. “I don’t want to hafta look at ya by accident.”

“Neither do I,” Osamu retorted, thought the spike of excitement in his blood was unmistakable. He reached for any old scar, a slim one that was easy to tie around Atsumu’s eyes, effectively blinding him.

“Can ya see anything?” He waved a hand in front of him.

“No, now hurry up before I change my mind!”

Osamu swallowed, noticing how tense his brother’s shoulders were, they were even shaking a bit. Whether it was nervousness or excitement he didn’t know, but he sat between his brothers lap, and dipped his head.

Atsumu’s soft lips felt good against his own. He was naturally so warm and inviting, it wasn’t a surprise that Osamu soon lost himself in the fantasy. He moved against him, feeling Atsumu’s breath on his face as he angled his head to get a better feel and brush up against him. Atsumu squirmed, lips taunt, making noises as he groped Osamu’s T-shirt.

“Just relax,” Osamu assured, parting. “Don’t tell me you were this nervous around that girl.”

“Don’t talk!” Atsumu groaned. “You’re ruining my imagination!”

Osamu wondered who exactly his twin brother was imagining, was it that girl or someone else? He didn’t bother asking, basking in the heat of the moment he’d take with his greedy hands. So, he kissed him again, closing his own eyes, and before he knew it he had Atsumu pinned to the mattress, straddling his hips, feeling the boy struggle against him.

“Open yer mouth, Tsumu.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Do it.”

“What are ya—“

His words are cut off by an open-mouthed kiss, feeling Osamu’s tongue slide in, feeling strange and icky but also a twinge of excitement, an excitement that began to strain his pants.

“Agh—S-samu!”

“You getting hard already?” Osamu mused, wiping the spit from his mouth, thumbing his brother's lips.

“Get off me!” Atsumu growled, embarrassed, reaching for the scarf around his eyes. “It’s too much!”

“No ya don’t,” Osamu threatened, shoving him back against the mattress before he could flee. “You wanted to practice didnt’cha? Well, now we’re practicing.”

“I don’t like this anymore.”

“Liar. You’re such a bad liar.”

“I’m not lying!”

“Then why’s your dick hard? Huh?”

“Cuz!”

“Cuz?”

“Cuz that’s what happens when something rubs against it!”

Osamu clamped a hand over his twin's mouth. “Shut it or mom will hear you.”

Atsumu licked his palm in defiance, which usually made Osamu wrench away in disgust but did the exact opposite this time around.

“I’m getting hard too,” Osamu admitted, eyes half lidded.

“Hghhhhn!”

“Tsumu, I wanna keep practicing on you.”

“Hghnnhhh!”

He finally let go of his brother’s mouth, though he stayed on his lap, liking the feeling of his bulge against him. Vaguely, he wondered what would happen if he reached out and stroked it.

“Samu,” Atsumu began, red blush across his face as he lifted the scarf partially, eyes unfocused. “I feel strange.”

“Me too.” He leaned in, swallowing his brother's mouth again, who whimpered against him. He loved the sound and how responsive his brother was being, the dominance was addicting. “That noise,” he groaned. “Do it again.”

“It’s embarrassing.”

“I like it,” Osamu said, one hand traveling down his brother’s chest. “I like a lot of things about you.”

Atsumu managed a strained smirk, though he looked more unsure than anything as he panted, feeling Osamu lean down and kiss his neck. “Hmm, whad’ya like?”

“I like how rowdy you can be,” he said, exploring, wondering how far Atsumu would let him go as he reached under his shirt, grazing his nipples. He felt his twin shiver and tense against him, urging him to continue. To be honest, Osamu had no idea what he was doing, just letting his body do what felt good, or what he’s seen from a couple of pornos, really it was mostly instinct.

“I like how yer letting me do this to you.”

“Tie my hands.”

Osamu blinked. “What?”

“I saw it in a video once,” he explained, mortified. “I wanna try it.”

“Eh, okay,” Osamu swallowed, electricity shooting straight to his cock. “Give me that.” And he motioned towards the scarf on Atsumu’s head.

“No! I don’t want to see ya! Get something else!”

“Ugh, you whiny brat.”

“And hurry up.”

Atsumu could be so demanding and needy at times, even when they were doing mundane things like eating cereal or loafing around, it was always— _hand me this, hand me that, give me this, give me that, I’m too lazy, I’m too busy_ —it was annoying. But his dick was taking control of his actions right now and he couldn’t bother acting out on his annoyance. Instead, he seized another scarf and came back, straddling his brother's hips again, feeling his erection against his groin.

“You’re so turned on,” he noted, observing the painful dent in Atsumu’s shorts. “I didn’t think it could stand up that straight.”

“Shut yer trap, will ya! I hate this as much as you do!”

“I don’t hate it.”

“Ugh, just—“ he was cut off when both his hands were tied together by one end of the scarf, while Osamu secured the other end around the bunk bed’s leg, effectively forcing Atsumu’s hands up over his head.

“How do you feel?” Osamu asked, watching in delight as his brother squirmed underneath him.

“Hot,” he clenched out, trying to shift underneath his brother’s weight. “Just do what you have to do.”

“Just pretend we're boyfriend and girlfriend,” Osamu began, dipping his head to brush their noses together, “you're the girl and I’m the boy.”

“Why do I hafta be the girl?” He growled, already wanting to be untied so he could clobber his twin.

“Cuz you’re the one whose tied up,” he reasoned, and positioned himself so he had Atsumu’s legs wrapped around his torso, effectively rubbing their groins together.

“Ah!” Atsumu groaned, going hot all over, his bounds digging into his skin, luckily the soft material of the scar inflicted no pain. “Samu, what are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, going still, looking at their clothed cocks. “I kinda just wanna grind against you.”

Atsumu gaped, heart racing, feeling something deep inside him sting with disgust and arousal. He wasn’t thinking clearly, all he knew was that he had this pressure building up inside his chest and balls and he wanted to relieve it anyway he could.

“Fine, just do it!”

“Okay.”

Osamu began to grind his hips against his brother, slowly at first, feeling electricity shoot up both their spines as feather-like moans escaped their parted lips.

“You locked the door, right?” Osamu panted, eyes glazed over, leaning over to take his brother's pretty little lips in his own.

“I—I think so?” Atsumu groaned against him, pushing up to meet his thrusts.

A quick check around and Osamu confirmed that the door had been locked, luckily their parents room was on the first floor, so they didn’t have to worry too much about making noise. He nudged his face into Atsumu’s neck, panting, kissing and licking as he continued the friction below. “If mom found us like this it’s all over.” Another kiss and a moan. “Our life will be ruined.”

“Samu,” Atsumu groaned, needy and deep. 

“Hm?”

“Touch me with your hands.”

“Where?”

“Everywhere,” he begged, writhing in place a bit, almost as if he were on fire. “Please just— _touch me_.”

So Osamu did, he reached for his brother's maroon shirt and lifted it up over his head, left it circling the back of his neck as he ran his hands over his smooth chest and down his tummy. Ghosting touches, rubbing and nudging his pink nipples in circular motions. Atsumu arched into the touch with a sigh, mouth ajar as he moaned needy words of want. It was so erotic and Osamu couldn’t look away.

“Touch me _there_ ,” Atsumu pleaded, head twisted to the side, hair ruffled and rowdy. It was like he read Osamu’s thoughts.

“You want me to jack you off?”

His twin flinched in shame. “Is it disgusting?”

 _Anything but_ , Osamu thought, already running his hand down Atsumu’s tummy and into his sensitive dick, feeling him squirm. “No,” he rubbed his brother’s clothed erection, hearing his twin suck in a shaky breath. “I’ve been wanting to do it actually.”

“You have?”

“Yeah.” And he reached further under, passed his twin’s waistband where he already had prickly hair growing. “You’ve been jacking off a lot, I just wondered how it would feel.”

“S-samu—there!” Atsumu groaned when his brother wrapped his hand around his agonizing cock, moan caught in his throat as he began to stroke him. His mind was exploding at the seams with the foreign sensation; sure they were his twins' hands, hands he knew from back to front, but the feeling of foreign hands that weren’t his own kneading his cock felt so thrilling, made him swell up even further.

“S-samu—ah—I’m getting close…”

“Don’t cum just yet,” Osamu instructed, momentarily taking his hands away from his twin’s throbbing dick.

“What are you doing?!” He whined, writhing in his bounds, trying to chase after the feeling with his hips. “Keep touching me!”

“I will, damn!” Osamu growled, pushing him down. “I need to take care of myself too, ya know!”

And then Atsumu saw white, well, not literally since he was blindfolded and it was pitch black, but his mind went blank with pleasure as he felt something soft and hot against his erection, and then that friction continued.

He’s panting and moaning loud now. “Wha—what is this?” He groaned, saliva trickling past his lips, riding the explosion of sensations attacking his mind. “Is that—“

“Shh, your being too loud,” Osamu chided, rubbing their cocks together, squeezing them both. “Ghn—you feel so good.”

“Osamu…” Atsumu moaned into the pillow as his brother rutted against him, breathing fast, sticking out his tongue in that signature tick of his, licking whatever surface it landed on.

“Yer so hot, Tsumu.”

“Faster! I need—I want—“

“So needy, here move like this—“ and Osamu positioned them so Atsumu was lying on his side, one leg raised which Osamu held with slight difficulty. He continued his works, slotting between Atsumu’s sex and thrusting against his brother’s cock, bringing them both to a euphoric state as they continued to feed off of each other’s arousal.

Osamu knew this was bad. He knew he was going against what was morally correct, and something deep inside him screamed that this was against his very nature, but the thought only fueled the fire inside him. Only deepened the crave of wanting to dominate and stain his brother. He wanted to fuck him too. That’s been something on his mind, though he never dare take it that far.

“I—I’m close,” Atsumu groaned underneath him, arching his back, sucking on the pillow, already leaving a wet stain as precum slushed out his slit. Watching his brother mouth into his pillow and leave a stain brought him over the edge, breath hitching in his throat as he climaxed, feeling Atsumu tense and spill over as well. Their semen spilling and shooting mostly over Atsumu, who was too far gone to give a damn.

Osamu slumped against his brother after unclenching, letting his leg go and laying on top of him, catching his breath.

He didn’t know what to say.

Now that their pleasure had subsided and they were hit full blast with the reality of what they had done, the acts they had performed with each other, he didn’t know what to think.

Would Atsumu hate him? Be disgusted by him? He was disgusted with himself.

“T-tsumu…” Osamu swallowed, raising himself over his twin and untying his hands. Atsumu quickly squirmed out of his blindfold, still laying in his mess of sweat and cum.

“What did we do?” Atsumu groaned, hands over his eyes as a couple tears slipped. Osamu sat up transfixed, shocked at the tears running down his brother's cheeks. He felt like shit.

“I’m sorry,” he began, looking away. “I took it too far.”

“...”

More silence.

“Tsumu, say _something_.”

Atsumu finally looked at him, his face still twinged with a feathery blush as tears stood in his eyes. Osmau pushed down the urge to kiss him again.

“Let’s keep it a secret,” he began, whipping the tears and snot from his face. “And never do it again.”

That broke something in Osamu, something deep and sensitive, but he nodded nonetheless, knowing the aftermath of what they had committed was unpleasant.

“Alright,” he agreed, tight lipped, fingernails digging into his own palms. “Our secret.”

“I’m going to shower.”

And the loud slam of their door shutting closed never sounded so haunting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should I keep writing more? I have a lot of ideas.  
> Let me know down below.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, wow, wow, I was not expecting all the positive feedback I got in the first chapter. You guys really warmed my heart. Thank you.

“Ah…..ah….”

Eyes closed, Osamu willed his mind to steer away from dangerous thoughts.

“Ah….ah….”

He laid in bed, a slight wrinkle on his brow as he focused on breathing, debating on whether he should put in earplugs to drown out the noise.

“Ah….ah….”

He licked his lips, the book in his lap all but forgotten as he made sure to keep his mind and eyes off a certain blonde.

“Ah…ah….”

“Are you almost done?” Osamu growled, eyes snapping open as he glared down at his twin brother, who, in all his shirtless glory, was doing push-ups in the middle of their room.

“Nope,” Atsumu panted, sweat clinging to his face and hair as he continued his workout. “I got twenty more—ah—to go.”

_ ‘Twenty more, huh? _ ’ Osamu groaned, cursing himself to hell, squeezing his eyes shut, muscles taunt. He wondered how much more of this he could take.

After their little ’incident’ almost a year ago, both Miya twins swore to lock it up and never speak of it again, effectively nipping any more ‘explorations’ in the bud. Slowly, things went back to normal, as normal as things could get, at least. For a while, the twins didn’t know how to act around each other; they’d fumble and look stiff, but leaving the incident in the past proved effective. Soon, their mundane routine settled back in as if nothing had ever happened.

Or so they thought.

Osamu, despite knowing he wasn’t supposed to bring up that night under any circumstances, still yearned to talk about it. Maybe open up to each other on why that night had spiraled into the disaster that it had. Well, it hadn’t been a disaster for Osamu, not in his eyes at least, maybe for Atsumu, but not to him. For him, that night marked a turning point in his life, an opening of the eyes to something he knew was already there, a moment that felt more like a dream come true than a nightmare.

He felt sick.

Even now, the taste of his brother lingered in his mouth, making him swallow and nurse the desire late at night. It affected him in ways that brought forth exquisite pain, especially when he noticed the ample muscle that began to form on his twin’s arms and legs, to the way he did his hair, and the clothes he wore. All mundane things that drove him insane.

Pathetically, his dream laid chained up and thrown away, something he’s never to touch, no matter the circumstances.

Though, if Osamu was being honest with himself, he replayed that night in his mind over and over again, for months on end, like a mantra. Even now, in their first year of high school, the memory of their touches and moans never failed to make him hard.

It was odd.

By now, he’s had sex with a girl, only one, an ex girlfriend of his which, being honest, he’d used as a crutch to get over his reciding feelings for his brother. He thought:  _ maybe if I have sex with a real girl I’ll get over these disgusting feelings? Maybe I’ll be normal again? Maybe I need something real, something tangible to ground me into reality. _

Osamu had been hopeful, prayed that he’d forget about these putrid urges and completely erase them from his being. Unfortunately, the searing truth slapped him square in the face as soon as he came inside the condom, balls deep inside his ex:  _ it wasn’t the same _ .

His desires had only tripled.

He attempted to subdue the urges while simultaneously chasing after the thrilling high Atsumu had given him that night, to no avail. No position, no foreplay, no breasts or girls could get him as hard as the intimacy he’d shared with his twin brother. Disgusting, right? He should go to hell and back. Frankly, Osamu despised himself. He felt sick, deranged,  _ putrid _ . Like absolute filth.

He wasn’t normal. No normal brother would want this, right?

He felt like a failure to both himself, his family and the world. Was it wrong for him to be born? If he disappeared, would the world be better off?

He wanted to disappear.

Not even getting his dick sucked by a pretty blonde with velvet-soft lips could do it for him. Sure, the feeling had him panting like a dog in heat, yes, the sensation of a warm and slick tongue grazing his cock felt damn good, but it didn’t sexually or mentally gratify him like cumming over his brother had.

And the realization horrified him.

So much so, that he’d punched the bathroom mirror one day, shattering it to pieces, leaving his knuckles bloody and scared, only for Atsumu to bandage them later, silent in his work, a knowing, forlorn look on his face.

Now, both high school freshmens, still playing volleyball and still getting in trouble—mostly Atsumu—the feelings lingered in the back of his brain like a cancerous infection. Physically, nothing had changed around them—the world hadn’t stopped, their parents still loved them, Atsumu was still a pain in the ass—but nothing felt normal to Osamu.

Everything was wrong.

Perhaps Atsumu was battling his own sets of demons, because, in an act of defiance, he dyed his hair blonde one evening, leaving their bathroom a horrid mess. Naturally, Osamu dyed his hair as well, though he opted for a less flashier color—a cool grey. People got them confused less often, which was exactly what they wanted, though, Osamu couldn’t help feel like they had lost a bit of their connection.

It stung.

Being alive stung.

Yearning for your twin brother stung.

The night they’d shared had never strayed from his mind, not for a single moment, especially nights like these where Atsumu’s groans filled the room while he exercised.

Life was hell.

God, if only he could reach out and touch him, caress him, maybe lick him, Osamu would give the damn world for that possibility.

“Imma shower,” his twin said, taking a long swig of his water bottle.

“Aight,” Osamu responded, watching the blonde’s Adam’s apple bob up and down from the corner of his eye.

Vaguely, he wondered if Atsumu thought of that night as well. Surely he did, right? Even if the memory had burned him, it was impossible not to think of it. Maybe for him, however, the memory wasn’t pleasant, perhaps it was even a source of trauma.

God, he hated himself.

Atsumu never outright showed him or verbally confirmed it, but he could tell the incident had affected his brother; of course it had. Yet, by all accounts, Atsumu acted and responded the same, talked the same and felt the same, but there were instances where they’d brush up against each other, or touch without realizing and Atsumu would flinch away. During volleyball practice he’d lash out, or react more violently than the rest.

Osamu never caught him crying, but he wondered if he ever did. There were moments his twin would come back from the bathroom or a secluded place brandishing slightly red-rimmed eyes, looking distraught. There were times his nose got watery out of nowhere, and he’d blame it on non-existent allergies. Little things like that made Osamu wonder, though, he never dared question him about it.

Out of fear, Osamu shut himself off, drowned out most of the world as well, knowing Atsumu would flat out refuse any form of consolation or confrontation when it came to  _ that _ , so he didn’t even try.

Consequently, they let what happened between them fester inside them, rot and decompose until the smell became unbearable and stung their eyes, but Osamu would continue to ignore it, as long as it meant they were  _ okay _ .

He just wanted things to be  _ okay _ .

But nothing was ever okay.

“Atsumu-kun, can we hang out alone today?”

Osamu froze in his tracks, three drinks in his hands as he’s about to round the corner to join his twin brother and his girlfriend, who were both perched outside, waiting for him at their usual lunch spot. He had gone to get some drinks for them out of the goodwill of his heart, only to return and overhear their private conversation.  _ This is dangerous _ , he thought, _ I should step away— _

“Osamu has to come.”

“Why? You’re always together,” she pointed out, voice soft, not at all malicious but still laced with a hint of desperation. Osamu found himself glaring at the ground. “Some time apart won’t hurt you two, right? Don’t get me wrong, Osamu is really awesome, I love hanging out with you two but...uhm, it would be nice to hang out alone sometimes, just the two of  _ us _ .”

The two of  _ us _ .

Atsumu’s girlfriend, Machi, was the same pigtailed girl Osamu had met in middle school, now with long wavy hair, dawning a beautiful face and a plush chest. Her pleas sounded so hopeful, so earnest, it almost made Osamu feel like a dick. He had no reason to, after all, Atsumu was the one who kept inviting him to all their dates, and despite his disdain for being the third wheel, he enjoyed hanging out with his brother more, so he pushed the jealousy down.

Machi wasn’t that bad either.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it,” Atsumu sighed, in that nonchalant tone of his that meant he wasn’t going to think about it at all. It pissed Osmau off. Why couldn’t he give Machi some alone time? Sure, his own guts burned with jealousy at the thought, but he felt bad for her. Plus, it wasn’t like he wasn’t going to get something out of always being there anyways. Osamu genuinely liked Machi; she didn’t deserve the asshole of a boyfriend his brother was.

She was a kind, considerate person, always helpful and understanding. Hell, even Osamu had harbored a slight crush on her at one point, only for Atsumu to sweep in before him. Bastard.

Honestly, that girl deserved a golden medal of honor and bravery for staying with his prick-of-a brother for so long. It took guts and patients, a lot of goddamn patients, but somehow she always stuck.

_ She must really love him _ , he thought with a pang in his chest.

Osamu swallowed, squaring his shoulders as he threw an enormous weight of resolve over his shoulder: he’d start distancing himself from them, if only just a tad, to give them some space.

“‘Tsumu, they didn’t have the chocolate milk you wanted so I brought you some orange juice,” Osamu announced, making his presence known, rounding the corner and giving his brother a blank stare, not letting any emotion slip through his mask.

“Goddammit,” Atsumu growled, raking a hand through his unruly hair. “I was really in da mood for chocolate milk!”

“Well maybe if ya’d gotten here faster instead of lounging around before lunch, you’d have one,” he countered, handing Machi her drink, who bowed with a smile.

“Thanks, Osamu-kun!” She beamed.

“Give me a fuckin’ break!” Atsumu groaned, pout on his lips.

Yeah, he really needed to give them some space.

Shinsuke Kita would be his escape.

Later that day, right after school in fact, Osamu shrugged out of his school uniform and into some casual clothes, catching his brother's attention, who sat perched in front of the TV playing video games.

“We’re not supposed to meet up with Machi for another two hours, ya know that, right?” Atsumu pointed out, not even sparing him a single glance as he played the game, too wrapped up in its world.

“I know,” Osamu affirmed in a casual tone, fitting in his black. Inarizaki hoodie. “I’m not going with you guys though.”

That made the blonde freeze and turn with a defined glare. “You said you were  _ coming _ .”

Was that a pout on his lips?

Osamu’s heart sped, fighting the urge to tilt his brother’s head and kiss him.

“I know—“ And he could tell by the twitch in his brother’s eyes that his ‘I knows’ were staring to piss him off. “But I’m ditchin ya tonight. I’m going over to Kita-san’s house.”

Atsumu’s glare deepened, curling his lip as he turned back to the screen, sulking. “Ya can’t just quit our plans just cus’ better ones popped up, dickhead,” he growled.

“Oh, shut it, ‘Tsumu, I always hang out with you and Machi-chan,” he reasoned, seizing his phone from the desk. “Me not being there one night won’t kill ya. Plus, we don’t always need to be together.” He watched closely for any sign of tension or reaction from his brother. So far there was none, he sat stock still, so it must mean he didn’t care.

“Fine,  _ whatever _ . Go have fun with ol’ rice head.”

And just because Osamu was feeling uncharacteristically petty today, he shot back a curt, “Fine, I  _ will _ .” And stalked out of the house, bidding his parents goodbye as he did so. Before setting a single foot outside their yard, however, a knock from the second floor window caught his attention. Osmau looked up, watching his brother flip him off from all the way up there. He returned the favor.

—

“What do you think?” Kita asked, chin in the palm of his hand as he stared at Osamu from across the island-style table.

“It's delicious,” Osamu complimented, sinking his teeth into a freshly made rice ball, provided by none other than Kita himself.

“I’m glad you liked it,” the boy hummed, indolent eyes forming into crescents as he smiled, digging into his own rice ball. “Nothing better than the taste of fresh rice and the hint of salmon.”

Osamu nodded, forgetting everything else as he concentrated on this moment, practically drooling for the next bite. After dinner, him and Kita switched to his room, loafing around and playing video games, with light conversation floating here and there.

“Atsumu-kun’s been pretty aggressive during practice lately,” Kita began, their casual conversation finding its way back to the subject of his troubles. Osamu wished they had stayed on the mundane topic of favorite restaurants and movies.

He shrugged. “He’s always been a dick.”

“But lately he’s been more pissy than other days. Everything okay?”

Was everything okay? He sure hoped so.

“Everything’s fine, he’s just on his guy period.”

“Or maybe him and Machi-chan are having trouble?” He offered, glancing at him. “I saw them arguing by the gates the other day, you weren’t there, but they looked upset.”

Atsumu and Machi had argued? Why hadn’t his brother told him about it?

“Machi’s been wantin’ some alone time with ‘em,” he began, an ineffable sense of irritation in his chest. “And now they got it so they should be fine.”

“Ah, I see.”

Luckily, the topic was dropped and they naturally flowed back into safer waters, leaving a sour taste in Osamu’s mouth for the rest of the night. When he got back home, Atsumu was arriving around the same time, locking eyes with him by the door as they kicked off their shoes. He couldn’t help notice how his twin’s golden hair was a little mused and disheveled in places, almost as if it had been tousled by the wind. Vaguely, he wondered if him and Machi had had sex; it was probably the reason she wanted some alone in the first place.

He felt bile inch up his throat.

The all to familiar burn of jealousy seared his stomach as he rummaged through their drawers for clothes. He needed a shower. Fast. Even after his cold shower, the thoughts assaulted his mind like clockwork, and despite settling into bed for the night, he nursed the thought of a panting Atsumu glaring up at him with a blush on his face, legs spread open.

He woke up hard as a rock the next morning. Swallowing, Osamu took care of himself in the shower, opting to think of some random girl in a magazine and not his twin brother.

Their mundane routine continued, though, instead of hanging out with Atsumu and Machi, Osamu opted for hanging out with Kita, Aran and Rintaro more.

“What? Too cool to hang out with me anymore, you fucker?” Atsumu growled, finally snapping after about two weeks of this, leaving him behind as they walked home.

“Stop acting like a kid, ‘Tsumu,” he countered, hands in his pocket, observing his brother’s tense shoulders. “We live under the same roof, I don’t hafta be by your side every second of the day. Plus, it’s weird hanging out with you and yer girlfriend all the time.”

“ _ Weird _ ?”

He probably shouldn’t have said that.

“It’s just better when I’m not there,” he reasoned.

“No, it ain’t. I wantcha there.”

“Why? You have Machi-chan, that should be enough.” He pushed down the feeling of desire, the need for Atsumu to fight for him.

“Well it ain’t!” He fumed; they were back home now, in their room. “I wantcha  _ there _ ,” Atsumu finished, chucking his school blazer into the dirty basket. Osamu watched in slight delight.

“We'll, I'm not going,” he finished, despite the thrill in his stomach. “I’m going over to Kit—“

“You’ve been hanging around Kita-san a lot lately, you two fuckin’?”

Now he wanted to punch the living shit out of his brother.

“You think I’d fuck around with our volleyball captain? Think for a second, you idiot.”

“Who knows? I wouldn’t put it past you, I mean, you did mess around with my ex back in middle school.”

“She wouldn’t stop bothering me.”

“Heard you fucked her pretty good though.”

“I didn’t fuck her,  _ dick _ .”

“We’ll I don’t doubt you did, seeing as how you were such a horn dog back then, you even tried fucking m—“

His words are cut off mid-sentence by Osamu seizing his collar with brute strength, knocking Atsumu’s body against the nearest wall, his head ricocheting off the wood. For a split second, all the blonde could see was white, then, his twin brother came back into perspective. He had him pinned, a bone-chilling glare on his face as he kept Atsumu in place.

“Say  _ another _ fuckin word, you piece of shit—say another goddamn word and I swear to god I’ll knock your fuckingteeth in,” he threatened, seething. “You got that?”

Atsumu, for his part, glared back, hands wrapped around the fist wrinkling his shirt.

“Fine, asshole, let go!” He barked, though, deep inside he felt fear; this version of his twin was the one that frightened him the most. Osamu, for the most part, was a cool and collective guy, but when he saw red, he saw red like a bull on the prowl. Atsumu had no doubt his twin would beat the living shit out of him if he continued his verbal assault.

So he caved in.

Osamu leered down at him, shoving him away, grabbing his coat off the chair and stalking off, not even sparing a single glance back or bidding his parents goodbye as he stormed off to Kita’s house.

—

“Fuck!”

Atsumu growled, his temper dark and explosive as he threw a water bottle against the wall, silently seething as he stormed around the room, grabbing a shirt hanging off the bed and chucking that across the room too.

“Fuck  _ you _ , you stupid fuck!” He barked, saliva trickling down his chin like some rabbit dog as he imagined his brother. “Mother fucker— _ fuck _ !” Pain shot up his fist when he slammed it against the desk, rattling a couple things on top, some falling down. Hot, searing anger and a hint of jealousy replaced the pain however.

Fuck, Osamu.

Fuck that fucking asshole.

“‘Tsumu, honey,” his mother called from the hallway, a hint of distress in her tone. “Are you okay? I heard a slam and ‘Samu just stormed out. Did you have another fight?”

Osamu’s name was the last thing he wanted to hear right now.

“Everything’s fine, ma!” He groaned, feeling like a child throwing a tantrum, but he couldn’t help it, everything was pissing him off! He’d work through this himself though, there was nothing his mother could do or say to ease his toiling mind.

“Alright.” He could hear the hesitation and worry in her voice. Please just go away. Go away. “Are you still going to Machi-chan’s house today?”

“Yeah, I’m leaving in a couple of minutes!”

“Okay, make sure to take out the trash before you leave.”

Ugh! Just leave me the fuck  _ alone _ .

“Alright!”

Her retreating footsteps were like music to his ears as he slumped against Osamu’s mattress, laying down with a glare as he stared up at the same ceiling his twin brother stared at every night before falling asleep. Atsumu swallowed the lump in his throat, willing the memories to go away. Slowly, he turned to look at Osamu’s pillow, the same pillow he had—

No!

No! No! Go away!

“Ugh!” He growled, pulling at his hair. “I don’t fucking want to remember!” But remembering was all he could do as he strangled a fierce tide of emotions that welled up inside him. Thinking of that night, of those hands, of those sounds was as easy as breathing. They’d slip in uninvited, penetrate his mind while he tried to carry on with life unperturbed—during school, during lunch, before going to bed, even during sex with Machi—everywhere he went the memories wouldn’t stop! Every attempt at forgetting them, at patching them up, or erasing them was in vain as they came flooding back without remorse.

The sickest part was that he felt aroused by them.

Gingerly, Atsumu wormed his way to his brother’s pillow, lying on it and inhaling that familiar scent that felt like home and hell all in the same breath. Without thinking, he reached under his belt for his dick, hisses when he wrapped a desperate hand around his half-hard cock.

“I’m so sick,” he groaned into the pillow, hating himself, hating the pleasure that overtook his system when he imagined Osamu’s hands working him up and down instead of his own.

“Ugh—fuck off,” he moaned, stroking faster, hearing his brother’s voice whisper in his ear, seeing those cold eyes in the back of his mind and his breath hitched. “‘S-Samu…” he came in his pants with a submissive moan, breathing heavy, eyelids fluttering closed.

God, he felt disgusting.

Changing into some clean pants and underwear, Atsumu collected himself, splashing water on his face in the bathroom. Gross. He felt gross.

Mutely, he stalked over to Machi’s house, not that excited to see her since his anger simmered just below all-out rage. She was a doll 90% of the time, honestly, Atsumu was lucky to have her, but he wasn’t in the mood to put up a face for her. It wasn’t her fault he was in such a fowl mood, and he couldn’t help acting like a jerk when he hated himself so much. It was why he wanted Osamu there, because his twin would keep him in check or lightened the mood when things got tense.

“Atsumu-kun!” She beamed when he entered her home, wrapping her delicate arms around his chest, her breasts pressing softly against him. Ah, that felt good. “I thought you weren’t coming!”

“I told ya I’d come, didn't I?” He answered, kicking off his shoes. “So here I am.”

Her smile deepened and he felt like such an asshole for feeling his heart sink.

“Are you hungry?”

“Nah, not really.”

“Aw, come on.” She tugged on his sweater. “I made you curry.”

“Ya didn’t hafta.” He scratched his nape, allowing her to lead him to her empty kitchen, the smell of warm food invading his nostrils. He glanced around, noting how lonely the house looked and felt; were her parents even home? Machi’s mother was usually parading around the living room or the garden, with her father in his study or the kitchen. Both were absent.

“I didn’t have to but I wanted to!” She said, stirring something in the pot. “Food always makes you happy!”

“Oi! Ya tryin’ say I’m always grumpy?” He smirked, coming behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. Machi instantly melted in his arms, giggling like crazy since she was incredibly ticklish.

“ _ ‘Tsumu— _ “ she wheezed, rubbing against him and goddammit, he was actually getting turned on. “Stop! You’re gonna make me drop something!”

“Hey,” he whispered in her ear, going still. “Ya parents home?”

He couldn’t see her face, but he felt her duck her head, almost shyly.

“They’re not.”

“So then, if I fucked you against the counter no one will notice.”

“‘Tsumu!” She squealed, though she didn’t sound opposed to the idea in the slightest as he began to snuggle in the crook of her neck. “We s-should eat first though,” she added.

“Hmm, I do plan on eating,” he murmured, biting her neck, enjoying the feeling of her ass grinding against his cock as she squirmed around.

“T-tsumu—not here...after we eat,” she pleaded, drawing out a loud, dramatic sigh from Atsumu, who had to physically stop himself from groaning. “Yer no fun,” he grumbled, hands on his hips.

Machi stuck her tongue out. “I’m hungry too, you know! And I know you are too!”

“I already told you, I ain’t that hungry.”

“Did you eat before coming here?”

“No.”

“Then you haven’t eaten since lunch! You must be hungry.”

Atsumu wanted to roll his eyes, never the one to enjoy people dotting on him or forcing him to do something he was opposed to. “Like I said, I ain’t that hungry, but whatever, ya ain’t listening. Serve me what you got!”

A little frown settled on her brow. “You can serve yourself, Mr Dandelion! Since you’re not that hungry, I don’t wanna overfeed our  _ prince _ .”

He hated when she did that, patronized him, made him feel like a jerk. Granted, he was a jerk half the time, but she didn’t have to rub it in. At least Osamu didn't—

Stop. Stop thinking about him.

“Fine.”

They ate in partial silence, still cooling down from their little “argument”. After dinner, Machi insisted on a movie, laying on the couch as he spooned her from behind, his girlfriend snuggling deep into his chest. Without warning, his thoughts wandered over to his twin brother again, wondering what he was doing at this moment. Frowning, Atsumu hugged Machi closer.

Was it true that him and Kita were really  _ just _ friends? Or had Osamu lied? Where they fucking? They seemed awfully close and sometimes during practice he’d notice them laughing at an inside joke, or caught Osamu staring at Kita with eyes he couldn’t explain.

It pissed him off.

Uncontrollably, he’d lash out, grinded his team until they were nothing but dust, pushing himself until he couldn’t think. He didn’t like the look on his brother’s eyes when he stared at their captain.

Growing in anger, Atsumu wiled his thoughts away from Osamu, instead, he looked down at his girlfriend, wanting nothing more than to distract himself. From this angle he could peek at her cleavage, and the sight had him licking his lips.

This would do.

“Ah—Atsumu-kun?” Machi gasped when he pressed open-mouthed kisses to her neck, his hand massaging her thigh, lifting her skirt. He usually pressed slow and attentive kisses to her warm skin, working his way up until she was pudding in his hands, but not tonight, he needed something rough.

“Machi,” he groaned her name with need, his hands roaming up her breasts and groping. “Let’s have sex.”

The word sex always mortified her, she ducked her head and make a little noise in her throat that, admittedly, turned him on even more. Machi nodded, eyes half lidded as she turned to face him, pressing their lips together, sighing when their tongues found each other.

“I need to be inside you,” he groaned against her lips, roughy and out of breath, almost like the wind had been knocked out of him. He shoved her against the sofa, making her flinch.

“‘Tsumu,” she whimpered, attempting to hold him back as he dove for her neck again, feeling her knee press against her crotch. “You’re being too rough.”

“Don’t chicks like this?” He growled, like a dog in heat. He didn’t care. All he wanted was to dominate, to rip and tear and be dominated—wait—

“Go slower!” She demanded, face twisted in discomfort as Atsumu turned her around and pressed her ass against his crotch, her face plastered on the sofa. “Gentler!”

“I am being gentle! Yer just too damn sensitive!”

“No I’m not! You’re being too rough! You're hurting me!”

“I’m not even touching you!”

“You’re not trying to be gentle! I want you to make love to me! Not use me as a sex doll!”

“Who said I’m trying to make love to ya, huh? That’s shit people do when they're in love!”

“What did you say?” She snapped.

Oh, Atsumu wished he hadn’t said that.

“What did you just say!?” She repeated, fighting out of his hold and standing up, a look of utter betrayal on her face.

“Machi,” he blurted, sounding like a kicked dog. Shit. He fucked up.

“No!” She pulled away when he reached for her. “Say it again!”

“Machi—just let me—“

“Fucking say it again,  _ asshole _ !”

She never cursed at him.

“Fine,” he growled; if this was what she wanted he’d give it to her. “Making love is shit people do when they're in love,” he spat.

“So you’re not in love with me?”

He glared, feeling like a fish out of water. Was that tears in her eyes? Fuck, he couldn’t stand making girls cry.

“I don’t,” he admitted, wishing he could disappear. “Machi—“ he crumbled seconds later, closing his eyes with a sigh, muscles tense. “Just let me explain.”

But Machi wasn’t listening, she was fuming, pacing back and forth, nails in her mouth, a tick of her’s when she was extremely nervous or mad. Anything he would say would fall on deafs ears at this point.

“I knew something was wrong!” She accused, brows perfectly arching in a display of both anger and anguish. “You’ve been so irritable lately! It’s like I don’t make you happy anymore!”

“You  _ do _ make me happy!” He lied.

“Don’t lie to me! You’ve been acting like you’re okay this whole time but you’re not! I can tell! And it’s not just tonight, all week, no—all  _ month _ ! You’ve been acting like it’s a chore to be around me, like I’m a nuisance and I don’t know what I did wrong!” Tears. Tears were spilling past her eyes now and Atsumu felt choked and caged.

“You haven’t done anything wrong! It’s just—I just—“

“Is it another girl?” She rasped out, making him go still. “Are you falling in love with someone else?”

He hesitated, disgusted with himself when an image of Osamu flashed across his mind. No! Fuck off!

“Oh god.” Machi looked down, as if she’d been punched in the gut. “It is  _ another _ girl, isn’t it? You’ve been seeing another girl? Am I boring to you now? Will you discard me like the rest?” She accused, spitting every word.

“It ain’t another girl!” He growled, at his wits end. At this point he might just storm out of there.

“Then what is it!? If not another girl then tell me what’s making you act like this! Like you don’t see me anymore, like I’m not in front of you! What’s making you so angry! So annoyed with me! Not just me, you’re teammates too, I’ve heard rumors that you’ve been acting like an asshole to everyone else!”

“Don’t listen to those fucking romers!” He frowned, offended, though he figured he had no place to talk since they were true.

“I honestly believe them seeing as how you don’t refrain from showing  _ me _ your anger, your own  _ girlfriend _ , so why them!”

“Machi, just shut the fuck up for a second!”

Silence.

The silence was almost too loud, unbearable, hot and uncomfortable. He felt a headache crack open his skull and he just wanted to shut off all senses at once.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

“Get out.”

“Fine,” he growled, fist bawled, eyes ablaze. “You want it like that, might as well break up with me while you’re at it.”

She flinched, heart shattering. She wasn’t going to take it that far but if that’s what he wanted.

“Fine. Let’s break up.”

“Fine.”

And he slammed the door to her house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You already know what’s coming next chapter. But your feedback will let me know if I should even continue this?
> 
> I’d be happy to.
> 
> I got a comment last chapter basically telling me I shouldn’t write more. Thoughts?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who’ve kept reading this story despite the problematic shit, thank you.

Torrents of rain fell almost horizontally as Atsumu stalked back home.

He had just exited Machi’s house, tight-lipped and brooding, shoulders hunched over in annoyance as he kept on, unbothered. The rain and distant thunder did little to quell his inner storm, maybe even added to his agitation as he walked at a steady pace.

He hated his life.

Despised himself and his stupid decisions.

So far, he’d managed to piss off Osamu, Machi and himself, all in one day; even broke up with his first high school girlfriend over something so trivial. It was so goddamn annoying. To top things off, he walked out into the blazing night sky, swallowed up by rain like an idiot; his clothes were drenched to the bone, his anger was dark and explosive, and he felt a profound and unnatural uncertainty.

Why him?

Groaning, he kicked a rock in his path, the freezing rain doing little to quell his mental anguish and extinguish the fire deep within his bowls, unable to cool his boiling blood. God, he felt like ripping something into shreds.

Disgracefully, at the center of it all, like a nucleus, was none other than Osamu himself, his beloved brother.

The fire inside him only burned brighter.

Atsumu slammed the front door closed once he made it home, fringe in his face as he stood there for a while, soaked and dazed. It was strange. The house was eerily quiet. By now someone would have already—

“Tsumu?”

He peered up at the voice he knew so well, eyes cold as they landed on Osamu, the bane of his existence. His counterpart stood frozen by the stairs, frowning as he took in his appearance.

“Did ya seriously  _ walk _ all the way back here in da rain? Why didn’t you answer any of my calls, I was worried.”

Calls? He didn’t remember getting any calls.

It didn’t matter.

“Yeah, I walked here, what's it look like to ya?” He spat, voice dripping with malice as he motioned to his soaked clothes.

“Dumbass, you should’ve stayed at Machi’s house, or waited ‘till the rain lessened, at least.” Osamu neared him, about to touch his soaked hair when the blonde smacked his hand away.

“Fuck off.” Anger crept in his tone, about to walk past his twin when a strong hand seized his wrist.

“What the hell's wrong with ya? Ya look like shit and yer mood is even shittier,” Osamu growled, glaring at Atsumu from head to toe, each word rising in irritation.  _ Something’s wrong _ , he thought. “What happened to you?”

“Mind yer own goddamn business, Osamu.”

“Yer business is  _ my _ business.”

“Well I don’t wantcha in my goddamn business,” Atsumu leered, squaring his shoulders, adopting a face of anger.

“ _ Fine _ , be a little prick if ya want. Go sulk in the shower for all I care.”

And he did. Without another word, he marched up stairs, leaving a trail of water droplets in his wake as he gathered his clothes and entered the steaming shower with a sigh. His muscles instantly thanked him as they unwinded, and though the knots between his shoulder blades still pulsed with pain, the warm water had a cooling effect on his mind. He stood under the spray for what felt like hours, not thinking, not moving, just blank. All blank. He didn’t want to think. Not now.

After his shower, Atsumu dreaded going back to their bedroom, not wanting to face a certain someone. He lingered in front of the foggy mirror, hands gripping the counter with force, contemplating whether he could escape this house. There wasn’t a chance, not in this rain, at least. Glaring, he observed his brooding features and soaked-blonde hair haphazardly tossed around.

He felt like shit.

After what felt like ages, he emerged from the bathroom, silently entering their bedroom with a reassuring  _ click _ of their door.

Osamu didn't look at him, opting for staying inert on the bed, phone glued to his face as he scrolled, as if Atsumu had never walked in. The blonde stood there, a disheveled and distraught figure.

“Where’s mom and dad?” He asked, noting how their parent’s car hadn’t been in the driveway when he arrived.

“They went to grannie’s house,” his twin informed, unbothered, one hand behind his head as he continued to scroll, making Atsumu roll his jaw. “And since it started pouring a shit ton and she lives out in the country, they decided to spend the night since they don’t wanna risk getting stuck in the muddy roads.”

They were alone?

Atsumu swallowed, not missing the way his heart leapt, feeling his breath quicken. No. Stop it.

Osamu finally looked at him, _really_ _looked_ at him; hard gaze fixing itself on him as he abandoned his phone, standing, not uttering a single word as he did so. The setter felt strangely bare, annoyed as he shifted, glancing away.

“What ya looking at?” Atsumu broke the tension, the last few words said in a grumble as he felt self conscious and vulnerable for a split second. 

“Are ya gonna tell me what happened? And don’t even try to—“

“Machi and I broke up.”

Osamu choked, going stock still.

“What?” He blinked, shocked. “You guys broke up?”

Why was everyone deaf today?

“That’s what I said.” He slumped, turning and messing with something on the desk, anger rising.

“‘Tsumu…” Osamu began, unsure of what to say, of what to feel, though deep inside he felt an ounce of relief, somethin he despised himself for. “I’m—“

“Yer what?” The other tossed out disdainfully, back turned towards him, shoulders taunt. “Sorry? Surprised? Why the fuck should ya feel any of those?” He spat, a tumble of nasty words, storming over to their dresser, rummaging through their clothes without a single destination. Busy. He just needed to stay busy.

“That’s not what I was gonna say!” Osamu retorted, seizing his brother's bicep and turn him around.

“Don’t touch me!” Atsumu barked, jerking out of his touch.

“What the fucks gotten into ya? Did you get possessed by a demon or something? I’m just tryin to help!”

“I don’t need yer fuckin’ help!” He jerked out of his hold again, still rummaging through the drawer.

“Why not?”

“Cuz ya make it  _ worse _ !”

“How am I making it worse? Atsumu—stop fucking around with the clothes and look at me, goddammit!”

“Just leave me the fuck alone!”

“Why won’t you look at me!”

“Fuck off!” Atsumu barked, backing up into Osamu, hard enough that they almost trip but somehow manage to keep their balance until they hit a wall, freezing in place, Atsumu’s back against Osamu’s chest.

The spiker froze, words lodged in his throat, hands instinctively resting on either side of his twin’s hips, steadying them both. His mind went blank; just a few seconds ago he was in a tangle of messy words with his brother, now, he had his body pressed up against him, every curve and dip teasing the current of his desires. To make matters worse, Atsumu’s natural body heat was soaking into his skin, making him dizzy, ripping him in two as he stared at the back of his neck with desire, licking his lips.

If only he could—

He bit back a groan when Atsumu shifted in place, not moving away but enough to brush against his manhood, sending a shockwave down his spine at the familiar touch. He tightened his hold on his hips. Christ, if he so much as breathed in, he could feel him against his chest. He wanted nothing more than to rip into Atsumu, taint him, devour him, unspool the trickeries of his brain and make his body respond to his every touch.

Not being able to only darkened his desires, stroked the flame that threatened to consume him and force him to mark his brother right then and there...

Fear kept him at bay.

To his surprise, the blonde didn’t jerk away, instead, he remained rooted to the spot, back against Osamu’s chest, feeling the other’s breath ghosts over his ear no doubt. Their warmth mingled, transforming the blonde with an overpowering passion that made his face heat up.

Atsumu could feel himself getting excited, feel his pulse quicken and his shorts tighten as he focuses on his brother.

What was he doing? Hadn’t he put these boundaries between them in the first place? Why was he breaking them?

“‘Tsumu...” Osamu began, breaking the heavy tension.

“ _ Touch me _ .”

Eyes widening, Osamu's mouth went slack, heart almost leaping out of his throat.

Had he heard right?

“Wha—“

“‘Samu,” Atsumu pleaded, head bowed, a note of distress in his voice. “I want you to  _ touch _ me,” he groaned,  _ pleaded _ , barely above a whisper as his arms moved on their own, clutching his brother’s smooth hands and bringing one to his chest and the other to his groin.

There was no going back now.

“ _ Please _ ,” he croaked, eyes shut, head tilted as to not be seen once he began kneading himself with his brother’s warm hands, dangerously dancing with fire. His breath hitched, arching when pleasure bloomed in his mind and body, feeling Osamu’s cock get hard against him.

Osamu, for his part, stayed deathly quiet and tense, almost shaking in fear and excitement as his brother continued to puppeteer his hands into fondling him. 

“Why are you doing this?” He choked, knot in his throat, biting back the pleasure.

“I don’t know,” Atsumu admitted, not wanting to think, all he wanted was to quiet the voices in his head and quell his inner turmoil. “All I know is that I can’t stop thinking of  _ that _ night.” He’s about to slip Osamu’s hands inside his shirt and pants when the other yanked away with brute force, effectively cutting off any form of physical contact and adding fuel to the fire inside both their minds and pants.

“We can’t,” Osamu declared in a way that demanded attention, strong and steadfast, surprising even himself; he wanted this, Christ, he wanted this more than anything in the goddamn world, but he knew Atsumu wasn’t in the right mindset right now. Post-break up sex was a dangerous game in any normal relationship, post-break up sex with your brother was a one-way ticket straight to hell for them both. In fact, the thought of Atsumu using him as a tool to get over a heartbreak made an unpleasant and heavy sensation sit in his heart.

He knew, without a doubt, that if he allowed this to continue, Atsumu would wake up the next morning and hate him tenfold. The thought drove a stake through his chest.

He wouldn’t allow that to happen again.

“I  _ can’t _ do it.” He pushed him away.

“ _ Can’t _ ?” Atsumu spat back, body tense, squaring his shoulder as he turned to face his brother, eyes ablaze and almost broken. “You can’t?!”

“That’s right—I  _ can’t _ .”

“I thought you  _ wanted _ me!”

Osamu sighed, hiding his face in the palm of his hand, head cracking open. “God, listen to yourself, ‘Tsumu, you’ve gone mad!”

“Why won’t you just take me! I’m letting you!” He snapped, words trailing off brokenly, seizing his brother's hands and desperately placing them on his chest and neck. “Do it!”

“Stop it.”

“Why won’t you touch me!” He growled, utterly lost. “Am I that disgusting to ya?”

Osamu snapped his head up. “No!”

“Then why won’t you do it!”

“Because I don’t wanna  _ lose _ you!”

There it was, finally out in the open. All of his fears. All of his anguish. His heart. Out in the open for Atsumu to take, except, he couldn’t allow him take it anymore, not again, because the last time he was this bare in front of his brother, he had cried out in disgust.

He didn’t want to relive that nightmare again.  _ Couldn’t _ relive that night. Not again. Osamu loved his brother, craved his body and soul, but feared losing him the most.

“If I take you just like you claim you want me to,” he began, hand on his chest in despair, eyes open and crazed, “just like last  _ time,  _ you’ll only look at me with disgust and hatred once this is over!”

“I won’t hate you!”

“I don’t believe that for a fucking second!”

“How can I prove it to you?”

“Ya can’t.” Osamu shook his head, cold hearted. “Just drop it.”

“But I can't!” He almost cried, seizing Osamu’s shirt in both of his fists and knocking him back against the wall. “I can’t forget that night! Doesn’t matter what I do! I can’t stop rememberin’ it—I can’t—I want to forget but it’s impossible! I’ve been denying it all this time!” He squeezed his eyes shut, head crashing against his brother’s chest as the words shook through them both. “I’ve been denying these feelings for...for you and it’s been horrible! I feel sick every day—angry! I just want you to look at me,  _ touch me _ ,  _ love me _ ! Only me! I don’t want anyone else!”

Osamu stood riveted to the spot, as if in the aftermath of an earthquake. Transfixed by the heart-wrenching outpourings of his dearest brother, who had his shirt locked up in his fists, knuckles turning white.

Atsumu wanted him.

He wanted him just as much as Osamu wanted him.

Was this okay? Could he allow himself this putridly false sense of comfort just this once?

Before he could begin to fathom a reasonable response, Atsumu looked up and pressed their lips together, drawing out a sigh as soon as their lips connected. Osamu grabbed the sensual dip of his hips and squeezed, making the other gasp in his mouth when he drew him near.

This was it, the final crack in the damn they had worked so hard to build, only for the waters of their desires to come crashing down on them with no remorse.

“Fuck—this is wrong,” Osmau growled, all self control lost, morality flung out the wind as he pinned his brother to the wall, snaking his hands up his shirt, brushing his rib cage, tongue sliding against each other, breaths mingling.

“‘Samu,” Atsumu moaned when his brother turned him around and pressed his face into the wall, painfully grabbing his hips and grinding his firm erection against his ass. “Ah—‘Samu, this is all I’ve ever wanted for so long.”

Osamu didn’t say a word, drunk with lust as he continued to roll his hips to a silent rhythm, biting down on his twin’s neck and reaching under his shorts to stroke his cock, which twitched with interest.

“Do you realize what you’ve done?” He growled. “What yer doing to me?”

“I want you.”

Osamu sighed into his skin, tasting his pulse, jerking that hot member in his hand that made his heart clench and Atsumu weak. Those words. Those words were going to be his undoing.

Yet, there was still that insistent nagging in the back of his head that held him in a vice, told him this would ruin their family.

“We might regret this later,” he began, loving the way Atsumu’s sensual hips moved against his own, rubbing his cock just so.

Atsumu moaned when Osamu rammed into his clothed ass, grinding against him with fast, needy thrusts. “I won’t regret it,” he panted, wrapping his fingers in Osamu’s hair. “I want this. I want  _ you _ .”

“I want you too,” he groaned, kissing his brother again, ruining him. “God, I want you, I always have,” he admitted, tugging at his brother’s cock, making the other stand on his toes, legs almost give out. “I want to touch and lick every part of you, make your toes curl in pleasure and make you come,” he said the last part with a hint of aggression, wrapping one hand around his brother's throat, who arched into the touch.

“‘S-Samu—“

“I couldn’t stop thinking of you—of us,” he continued, biting his neck, “I couldn’t stand seeing you with—“ he stopped mid-sentence, not wanting to talk bad about Machi; she didn’t deserve it.

“I couldn’t stand it either,” Atsumu finished, panting, head lulling back against Osamu’s shoulder. “That’s why I broke up with her.”

“You broke it off?”

He nodded.

“Because of me?” Osamu added, sweetly, kissing the new-born hickey on his neck. “Who knew you could be so passionate.”

“Shut up.”

“‘Tsumu, I don’t think I’ll be able to hold back like last time.”

They were older now, more developed, both physically and mentally matured that made their middle school endeavours seem like child’s play. He’d gotten a taste of what it was like and now he wanted more. It was an insatiable hunger that had sprouted inside him without remorse.

“Then don't,” Atsumu urged, twisting his body to face his twin, slowly kneeling to the ground in front of him, all the while never breaking eye contact with Osamu.

He swallowed and groaned when Atsumu began to mouth his clothed erection, fisted the wall when he felt his hot breath penetrate his shorts. “ _ ‘Tsumu _ ,” he moaned, kneading his blonde hair as his eyes fluttered closed. “Tsumu, yer mouth is so hot—fuck.”

“I want to taste you,” his twin drawled, closing his eyes as he continued to mouth and lick the dent in Osamu shorts. “Ever since the first time you touched me I wanted to taste you.”

“Christ, don’t talk like that,” Osamu growled, staring at his brother who erotically lapped at his throbbing cock like icecream, messaging his scalp. “You’re gonna make me cum right now.”

“Who's the sensitive one now?” He smirked, pulling down Osamu’s shorts and boxers mid way, letting his dick spring out in front of him. It was an impressive sight. “I’ve never done this before,” he admitted, almost cheekily, staring at his twin's pulsing erection; he was just a tad bigger than himself.

“For fucks sake, ‘Tsumu, stop teasing me and suck my dick already.”

Atsumu snorted, reaching out to stroke him first, taking him in his mouth with his tongue ready to greet him a couple seconds later.

Osamu let out a long, deep moan from within his chest as soon as his cock entered the hot crevasse of his brother's mouth. Head blank, he continued his string of groans and profanities, hotly swirling one hand in his brother’s hair while the other touched his own forehead. He threw his head back when Atsumu found that sweet spot that made his toes curl when he licked and slurped, drawing out the nastiest sounds from him.

“Shit—‘T-tsumu...that feels so fucking good.” He thrusted in a little, making Atsumu gag. “Fuck—sorry!” He crouched down beside his coughing brother, who had a hand to his mouth. “I got too excited!”

“I’m fine!” The blonde swatted his pesky hands away, ambling over to Osamu’s bed, catching his breath and his beating heart. He wanted to please his brother, making him proud and hard just for him. The thought excited him to the very core.

Carefully and fully aware he was going at a snail's pace, Atsumu lifted his shirt, glancing back at his brother who neared and helped him slip out of his shorts and boxers. He let his twin drink in the sight, even allowed him to run his tongue across his shoulder as he groped his bare ass, spreading them teasingly. Then, head-first, Atsumu kneeled on top of Osamu’s mattress, spreading his legs wide open, presenting his ass for the other to see.

“I want to go all the way,” he informed, face plastered against his brother’s pillow, embarrassment twinging his cheeks. “I want you to fuck me, ‘Samu.”

The admission had Osamu weak in the knees, cock twitching painfully in his shorts as he stood there, mouth agape.  _ Fuck _ , he was done for. Utterly screwed. The give and take between them was painfully exquisite. Running a hand through his fringe, Osmau reigned back the little self control he had left, sucking in a quivering breath as he neared his brother. He ran his hands across his smooth thighs and over his ass, caressing his skin. He didn’t miss the way Atsumu twitched and flinched at his every touch, watching his erection fidget between his legs with an aparasing eye. It was a sight he longed to dominate and break.

“‘Tsumu, we can't go back after this,” he warned, kissing his brother’s shoulder blade as he leaned into him, trapping him against the bed. “If we go all the way, everything will change.”

“I know.”

“And you still want to go through with this?”

It wasn’t so much of a question but more of a final warning.

“Yes.”

Osamu’s face is gravely authoritative when he nods, observing him, mouth eager to bite into the ripening fruit of his sex. He wandered off the bed, heading for their closet and sorting through a couple of boxes until he found what he was looking for—a bottle of lubricant.

“Have ya ever been fucked before?” He asked, indolent eyes finding their way back to his twin.

Atsumu flinched, not so brave anymore. “Y—ya know I haven’t!” He growled, face burning. “Have you?”

“No, never, not with a guy at least,” he admitted in his brother's ear, climbing over him, turning him so they’re facing now. “But I’ve always dreamt of trying it with you,” he finished, slotting himself between Atsumu’s legs, spreading him wide open. His eyes drank in the vulgar sight, which did a number on his sensitive cock; his precious brother laid bare and naked just for him, his toned legs wrapping around his torso so comfortably and securely, it felt right. Their sex felt disgustingly right. Osamu bit his lip, eyes lowering to his twin’s erection that laid neglected on his stomach. Curiously, he pressed it flat against the blonde’s skin, making him suck in a jagged breath and shudder in response.

“It’s sensitive,” he whined, biting his lip.

“Fuck, yer gorgeous, ‘Tsumu.”

“Ugh, why ya gotta say embarrassing shit like that?” He hid his face in his hands, making the other snort.

“Hey, let’s play boyfriend and girlfriend again.” Osamu wrapped his hand around the base of Atsumu’s cock, squeezing a little, drawing out a broken whine.

“A-alright.”

“You’ll be the girl and I’ll be the boy.”

“Ugh,” his twin groaned, shutting one eye as Osamu poured some lube onto his cock, beginning to stroke him. “Ah—I’m the girl again?”

“Yup.” Osamu smiled, quickening his pace, narrowing his fist when he reached Atsumu’s head, enjoying the pleasure that flashes across his brother’s face when he squeezed his glands.

“You can moan louder, ya know, mom and dad ain’t here.”

“I-I know but it’s—it’s embarrassing.”

“It turns me on though.” He gave a particularly hard jerk against his cock, making a loud and guttural moan rip out of Atsumu’s mouth, surprising them both.

“How erotic,” Osamu teased, rubbing his balls too. “You want me to fuck you so bad?”

“Y-yes! Please fuck me,” Atsumu groaned, head spinning, face falling against the pillow and mouthing the surface. He imagined it was his brother's thick cock.

“That mouth,” Osamu noted, watching his twin lick the surface of his pillow with interest, “I wanna fuck into that mouth so mad.”

Atsumu moaned, eyes glazed over with lust, muscles winding and unwinding as pleasure seared his body like a furnace.

“Would you swallow my cum, ‘Tsumu?”

He nodded, rutting against his brother’s manhood, arching his back.

“Do you like the way I’m touching ya?”

“Yes,” he gasped, the noises coming off their skin adding to his embarrassment.

“You want me to make you cum first or you want me to put it in first?”

“Ghn—make me,” he moaned loud when he felt Osamu lick the precum from his tip. “Make me cum with your mouth.”

“Ah, you’re such a vulgar girlfriend—let's see how sweet you taste.” And he dipped his head between his brother's supple thighs, licking the sensitive head before welcoming it inside his mouth.

“ _ ‘Samu _ !” His twin cried, hands buried deep within his brother’s grey hair as he bobbed his head up and down Atsumu’s length, spreading saliva over the whole base. “Just like that!”

Osamu moaned when Atsumu was deep in his mouth, dick poking his cheeks as he forced more down. Truth be told, he’d never done something like this with a guy, and he knew for a fact he wouldn’t do this with any other person besides his sweet brother. The position and his inexperience made it more uncomfortable than the pornos made it seem. Less easy too. Each time he swallowed more or went down too fast, his gag reflexes naturally kicked in, making him pause and compose himself a bit. Pushing the reflex down, he concentrated on swirling his tongue around Atsumu’s glands, knowing how sensitive his brother was.

“C—cumming!” Atsumu choked, spewing his semen inside of Osamu’s mouth, who eagerly waited to taste him. The sticky substance ran down his tongue and past his throat, feeling more like syrup or glue as he leaned back, smacking his lips.

Salty.

“Turn around and stick your butt out,” he instructed, helping his brother to his shaky knees and positioning him so his ass was stuck out in front of him. Osamu poured lub straight into his hole and around his ass, smearing it with his hands in circular motion, making Atsumu twitch and writhe in place. He brought him flat against his own cock, loving the warmth pooling there.

“Rub it.”

“Will it hurt when you put it in?”

“Maybe a little at first, but don’t worry,” he assured, groping his skin lightly, “I’ll try to be gentle. Plus, I’m not going in with my cock just yet, I’m gonna prep ya first.”

“Prep me?”

“Yeah.” And he slowed down his groping, gingerly running his fingers over Atsumu’s sensitive hole.

“Ah—“ Atsumu shuddered, instinctively closing his legs.

“Don’t.” Osamu stopped him, easing him back apart. “ I need you open for me.”

“I want you to fuck me already,” he whined, reaching below to stroke himself again.

“You’re so needy and ready so quick,  _ fuck _ , it’s makes me so fucking hard.”

“‘Samu when—ah!” The blonde gasped when he felt a finger poke inside his hole, slowly at first, as to not make the sensation unpleasant.

“How’s that?” Osamu inquiered, dick throbbing with need as he continued to sink into his brother’s tight virgin walls. “Feels good?”

“Feels s-strange.”

“That’s normal. How about this.” And he flexed his finger inside him, making Atsumu arched his back and gape.

“Y-yes!”

“Yes what?”

“I like it!”

“How about another?”

Atsumu groaned loud and lewd, hands bawled against the sheets, not bothering to stifle his moans anymore as Osamu inserted another finger. In and out. In and out until he worked him raw, the foreign sensation overtaking all his senses.

“Ah—I want your dick inside me— _ now _ .”

Osamu leaned over him, licking the mole right at the base of Atsumu’s neck. “So impatient,” he growled, reaching over and tugging his own cock, slipping it between Atsumu’s ass cheeks and grinding.

“What does my pretty little girlfriend want?” He teased with slow and ragged thrusts of his hips against his ass, teasing him, not yet penetrating him.

“Just fuck me, asshole!”

“Fuck you? How vulgar. Maybe I need to teach you a lesson for being so nasty and needy, practically licking and begging for my cock.” He forced his brother to face him again, maneuvering the tip of his cock to tease the warm opening of Atsumu’s hole.

“Yes! Please—-ahh!” He choked when Osamu’s head pushed past his tight walls, both moaning in union. The sensation made his eyes shut in ecstasy, head twisting sideways to lick at whatever surface he could get his tongue on. “Slowly!”

“Ugh, I can't hold back,” Osmau swallowed, seeing stars, his cock surrounded and squeezed by tight, hot walls that attacked his every sense. He held Atsumu in place, who squirmed and tried easing out of his touch for a split second.

“I thought you wanted my cock inside you, baby?” He mouthed against his shoulder, continuing his deep thrusts inside Atsumu, who dug his nails into Osamu’s back as the sound of their sex filled the room. 

“It’s too much!” He whined, breath labored, spasming around him, clenching and unclenching his hole, making Osamu moan loudly as he adjusted inside him. “It’s my first time—shit— _ ah _ !”

“Fuck—if you keep doing that I’m gonna cum inside you right now.”

“Samu—you’re filling me too fast!”

“I can’t help fuckin ya, it feels too good, ‘Tsumu.”

“This feeling!” Atsumu groaned, touching his womb area as he felt his brother fully unsheathe himself inside him, deflowering him, hitting the base as all of Osamu’s length was now in, his pelvis hot against Atsumu’s ass. He panted, still fixated on the pain as the foreign object inside him twitched, making his knees buckle and press into Osamu’s side.

He needed time to adjust.

“Now the fun part.”

“‘Samu, wait!”

Mercilessly, Osamu began moving, thrusting in and out; the sloshing noises of the lubricant plus his precum easing himself inside Atsumu’s sex only fueled his fire. He licked his lips, taking his time, loving the way his brother laid open and submissive, so completely at his mercy. He felt a hot uprush of power while the thrill of being in control made his dick almost explode right then and there.

Tears stood in Atsumu’s eyes, gasps caught in his throat as he clawed at his brother’s back, feeling the way he spread him unnaturally, beginning to love the way his brother’s cock scraped against his virgin walls.

“Clench up for me, ‘Tsumu,” Osamu ordered, eyes shut as he lost himself in the sensation. “It feels good around my dick.”

Atsumu wasted no time, clenching his insides immediately, drawing out a raged groan from Osamu, who panted against his collar bone.

“You’re the best girlfriend ever.”

The praise went straight to Atsumu’s head and dick as he reached around for his bobbing cock, stroking himself with renewed desperation. Both panting as they chased after their climax.

“I’m gettin’ close, ‘Samu—ah—are you?”

“Not even close,” he panted, kneading his twin’s ass, spreading him wider, plunging in deeper. “I’m still hard as a rock.”

“How can you last so long?” Atsumu groaned, tugging slower, wanting to match Osamu’s rhythm so they came together. “I w-wanna cum together—ah.”

“How romantic,” he leered, eyes half lidded and full of malice as he fucked into his brother’s tight, unwelcoming walls. “Come here,” he said, tilting Atsumu’s head so he could kiss him momentarily, their lips linking, saliva connecting them once they parted.

“I’m close, ‘Tsumu,” he mouthed against his shoulder, biting the soft area, feeling the euphoric cloud of pleasure loom over his mind.

“Me too!”

“Can I cum inside you?”

The request made Atsumu insides boil with need, head spinning with passion as he arched into the welcoming heat of their vile climax.

“Yes!  _ Please _ , ‘Samu—I want your cum inside me!”

“So vulgar,” he groaned, dirty talk doing him over as he felt his balls tighten and his climax hit. He thrusted in faster, mouth ajar as he spilled inside his brother’s ass, fisting the sheets with inhuman strength as Atsumu pulled and tugged at his hair. They groan in union, the blonde’s whines a little more high pitch than his own as he struck deep inside him, groping his hips painfully. The blonde digging his nails into his back as he threw his head back, chest heaving, sweat doting his forehead. And then they collapse, Osamu over his twin, both panting after exercertion, the wave of heat lapping over them in a calm drift.

After a minute or two, Osmau heard Atsumu chuckle underneath him, still very much out of breath.

“What’s so funny?” He arched an eyebrow, pinching his brother’s waist.

“Nothing, it’s just—“ and he chuckled again, mushing his face against Osamu’s neck. “Nothing! It’s nothing!”

“No, tell me whatcha laughing at. Better not be me.”

“No! It’s not—it’s just….I know I should probably be sad right now cus I lost Machi, I know I should be but...I can’t help feel like I’ve gained so much more.”

“You fuckin’ weirdo.” Osamu grinned, pulling out of his brother, sighing as he did so. With slight interest he watched as his cum trailed down between his brother’s ass and thighs. The sight made his heart skip a beat.

“You don’t regret this...do you?” He asked, low and almost hesitant, spreading butterflies kisses across Atsumu’s broad chest.

“I don’t,” he spoke, reaching out so he could circle his arms around Osamu’s neck, locking eyes. “I’ve been denying my feelings ever since the first time we did this, trying to get rid of everything we did, of the feelings you gave me—“ He buried his face in the crook of his twin’s neck. “But I can't. I know it’s wrong...I shouldn’t feel this way for you, but I can’t help what I feel even though I know it’s wrong.” Atsumu hung his head in shame, almost as if he’d yet to fully accept the taboo feelings raging deep inside him; acknowledging them was the first step towards the right direction, right? Wrong direction? Hell if he knew.

“Maybe that’s why we have such a strong bond,” Osamu reasoned, marveling in the warmth his brother provided, feeling like a furnace, “We share everything—food, clothes, interest—it only makes sense that we share our love too.”

“I’m only scared that…” Atsumu bit his lip, an impending doom settling in his chest. “Mom and dad will hate us.”

“They won’t find out,” Osamu assured. “We’ll keep it a secret.”

The setter nodded, contemplating this with slight hesitation, wondering what his mother’s face would look like if she ever found out what they had done. Disgust. All he could picture was a face of disgust.

“Are we….going to keep doing this?” He asked then, heart beating in his throat, the silence almost intolerable. He felt Osamu shift against him, searching his face.

“Do you want it to?”

He nodded.

“Me too.”

“Good.”

“Come on then, let's go take a bath.”

“Okay!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY.  
> Once again, your reviews are the blood of this fic (aye, Nekoma reference?) and keep it alive, let me know if I should keep going? You guys are my priority, and I still have more ideas!


	4. Chapter 4

“Ah—ah, Samu…”

He loved that sound.

“Ah—I-I’m close—“

It was music to his ears.

“Fuck me right there…S-Samu—aghn...”

“Shhh, Tsumu,” Osamu chided as Atsumu rode his dick, hands squeezing his hips and ass as he pumped up inside him. “You’ll wake mom and dad.”

The pair continue their sexual exploration amid the tranquil night; nothing but the song of crickets and cicadas caressing the night air with their lullaby as Atsumu fucked himself on top of his brother, loving the hot friction between them. He choked on a moan, stifling his cries by chewing on Osamu’s shoulder blade, sweating his lungs out and rubbing his own cock with desperation. They sat on top of Osamu’s bed, the spiker’s back against the wall, cocks hard and bobbing up and down as their sex became more and more intense, sinking deeper into the heat between their loins, intoxicated by sensation inside them. Atsumu racked his hands through his twin’s grey hair, arching his back when he trusted in and took his pink nipple in his mouth.

“A-ah—they're sensitive, Samu!” Atsumu groaned, biting the back of his hand as his twin continued to thrust his cock inside him, holding him in place by his hips and middle back.

“Yer the one who said you wanted me to be rough with ya,” he reasoned, pulling the nub with his teeth, making his brother whine. “Plus, I love hearin’ ya squeal.”

Atsumu, ever the conniving twin, squeezed his brother’s cock inside him, knowing exactly the effect it had on him. Osamu groaned, eyes shut, and pumped up even harder, causing the blonde to almost hit his head against the top bunk.

“Ow! You fucker,” he hissed, making Osamu chuckle as he got a firmer grip around his ass.

“Shut up before I break yer back.”

Mortified, Atsumu hid his face in the crook of his neck, tugging at his hair. “No, you s-shut up…”

Hidden by the veil of night, the Miya twins continued their sexual debauchery, drunk with pleasure, thrilled by the possibility of being caught.

“I’m close,” Osamu moaned, tipping them over so he had Atsumu caged against the mattress, wrapping the blonde’s legs around his waist as he continued his languid, rolling thrusts, mouth tracing his collarbone. In a split second—as his climax reached its peak—he pulled out of Atsumu’s tight walls, surprising the other, and ejaculated all over his brother’s face in spurts.

Osamu bit the inside of his mouth to keep himself from moaning too loud; the sight of Atsumu, frozen in place, eyes closed, with glue-like cum all over his pretty lips and cheeks was out of this world. The obscene sight was enough to make him instantly hard again.

“Samu, you fuck!” Atsumu groaned, wiping the cum off his face with a tissue. “Why the fuck ya do that for?”

“I thought you’d look pretty with my cum all over you.”

His brother’s glare didn’t waver. “Ya coulda’ warned me, dick! Shit—I think it got in my eye—gross.” He stumbled over to the mirror and inspected the damage, cursing as he did so.

“But I liked yer surprised face, Tsumu, it’s cute,” he explained, cleaning himself lazily with a tissue.

“It’s not _cute_ ,” the blonde grumbled, every word punctuated by a scowl. “Now I’m all gross.”

The latter shook his head, leaning against the wall. “Nah, yer still my pretty little girlfriend.”

Atsumu's face fell abruptly into stern lines, disappearing into the bathroom without another word, reappearing seconds later with a dewy face, the tips of his hair lightly dampened. “I’m gonna get ya back for this.”

“You can come on my face next time if ya want” Osamu mended, an apologetic kiss to that pretty little nose of his. “I’ll lick it all off.”

“Samu!”

“What? Yer embarrassed by that? Really?” He deadpanned, scoffing as his twin buried his steaming face in his chest while he wrapped his arms around him. “I’ve seen all of you, Tsumu, in positions that would leave granny mortified and make mom and dad crucify us, and you’re embarrassed over ‘sum cum on my face?”

“I’m not embarrassed!”

“Really?” He pinched his cheeks, pouting doubtfully. “Sure looks like embarrassment ta me.”

“Well I’m not! We can do it!” He countered, already getting in positions.

“Woah, let's save that for tomorrow, I’m beat,” the spiker yawned, turning his back to him and wrapping the covers over his frame. He felt the blonde snuggle into his back, snaking his hands around his waist, one leg over his hips. How annoying.

“Can I sleep here?” Atsumu murmured, snuggling into the crook of Osamu’s neck like a new-born puppy, an endearing habit of his that he’d never admit.

“Sure, but get off me, yer hot and sweaty. I swear yer like a furnace, ya don’t let me breathe.”

“Of course, dear brother,” the blonde assured, voice dripping with sarcasm as he tightened his hold around him like the chicken shit he was.

“You cocksucker.”

That morning, Osamu woke up to the sensation of his cock being sucked; he blinked down at Atsumu, who had him deep in his throat right before school. The sight surprised him while the sensation had him throwing his head back; he was pleasantly surprised, knowing his brother was a notorious heavy sleeper, who didn’t wake for even an earthquake.

It was kind of sweet, of all things.

“Ah—Tsumu,” he sighed, caressing his twin’s scalp with loving, circular motions as he milked him dry. “You woke up early just for me?”

“Ghhhn,” his brother moaned deep in his throat, sending vibrations up Osamu’s cock, who stiffened with pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s good, this is so fuckin’ dangerous.” He tried stifling his groans with the back of his hand, mindful that their parents could wake up any minute now. “Can you rub my balls too?”

Atsumu, drunk with lust, eyes half lidded, reached over and began to knead his twin’s balls, feeling him arch into his mouth and penetrate him further, the action almost making him gag.

“Tsumu—I-I’m….ah….coming…ah, ah, yer so good at this.”

He came inside his brother’s mouth with a stifled groan, praying no one had heard him as he held Atsumu in place by the hair on his scalp, head tilting back as the pleasure washed over him in waves. It was sickening and oh so erotic to think his brother had swallowed part of him, something inside him was now inside his brother and the sight had him lapping at the sensation.

Atsumu rose, eyes half lidded and dazed, wiping his mouth and licking his lips, ambling to the bathroom without another word, leaving a breathless Osamu behind.

How was he supposed to survive school?

—

Osamu wondered what his brother would look like in a skirt.

The thought occurred to him smack dab in the middle of class as he sat there, minding his own business, Atsumu seated behind him per usual when a girl walked beside them. He wasn’t trying to stare really, but as she passed he noticed her plump thighs, their alluring affect only doubled by the way her skirt swayed from side to side, rising up just a tad to expose a bit more skin as she walked.

Osamu shifted in his seat.

The idea struck him violently—the image of his pretty little brother in a skirt just like that. How beautiful would he look? How hard would it get him?

The idea made his groin burn with need. Shit—not now...popping a boner in the middle of class was a horrible idea, though his imagination continued to work against him as he envisioned Atsumu’s plump thighs spread across the desk, skirt up to his stomach…

Another shot to his dick.

He peered over his shoulder, watching Atsumu who was concentrated on the work below him, tongue sticking out cutely, hand in his hair as he picked at his brain for the answers.

Cute.

Willing his urges down, Osamu was able to remain boner-free all throughout class, a miracle really. Even during lunch, while they sat surrounded by friends, he reigned a semblance of control while everyone was none the wiser.

“Oi, Samu, let me have some of yer rice,” Atsumu called out, mouth full of his own food.

“Ya go your own,” he countered.

“But it’s all gone!”

“Who’s fault is that?”

“Yeah—“ And his twin rolled his chocolate-brown eyes. “But I need more food to stay nice and plump! I’m the ace setter after all!”

Osamu froze, mind racing back to those thighs and that skirt that had him panting like a dog, and suddenly, Atsumu made a lot of sense—he _did_ need to stay _nice_ and _plump_.

“Take it then.”

“Oh, hell yeah!”

The blonde swallowed a heap of rice, chewing as if it were his last meal. Osamu, biting into the peach he had brought from home, slurped it’s juices as he observed his brother with a delicate eye.

“Here,” he offered the peach, placing the half-bitten fruit in front of his brother’s face, who met his eyes glancingly before sinking his teeth into the moist fruit, a string of juice trailing down his chin, meeting the tips of Osamu’s fingers.

He wanted to lick that juice off him.

“Miya-kun, you’re like a black hole,” a friend of theirs said, a first year like them. “You can eat a whole buffet!”

“Fuck yeah I can,” Atsumu agreed proudly, swallowing hard. “I’m so goddamn hungry all the time.”

“Is it because of volleyball?”

“Maybe?”

“Nah,” Osamu offered, chewing his food, “He’s always been like this.”

“Wish I had an appetite like yours!” The guy continued, patting Atsumu’s shoulder and squeezing, making Osamu peer at him. “Maybe that’s why you're so big and broad! Cuz you eat so damn much.”

“Yeah, you wish you had my muscles.”

“Sure do.”

 _Okay, this is odd_ , Osamu thought, bringing the peach to his lips, taking a deliberately slow bite as a soft suspicion of ulterior motives rang through his head. Their friend, though chill and collective, always felt a bit more friendly when it came to his brother, in a touchy-feeling kind of way. At first, Osamu attributed their closeness to having like-minded ideas, which usually ended in them getting in trouble during class, yet now it felt more personal. Atsumu, being the extrovert guy that he was, probably didn't mind or even noticed how ‘handsy’ their friend was with him and _only_ him.

Before this, Osamu opted for turning a blind eye despite wanting to say something, however, now that they were involved with each other in _that_ way, he couldn’t help the itch in his chest, the need to just claim Atsumu in front of everyone so they all knew who he belonged to. He refrained from such actions though, knowing how awful that would look on the both of them.

“Miya-kun, you got something here,” their friend pointed out, plucking a piece of rice from Atsumu’s cheek and eating it.

Okay, the guy was definitely interested in his brother.

The spiker, nursing a cold glare and even colder intentions, shifted in his seat, placing an inconspicuous arm over his brother's shoulder, trying to disentangle a glare aimed at the dark-haired boy who played the action off with a laugh.

Luckily, Atsumu frowned over at their friend instead, telling him to ‘fuck off with that manga bullshit’. Osamu wished he could sneer victoriously at him, bare his teeth and give him a piece of his mind, though he swallowed it all down. Despite the hot iron of jealousy burning his insides, he opted for staying unfazed, choosing to massage the back of his twin’s neck instead, giving him silent praise.

Osamu let off some steam during practice, sweating the anger out until nothing but a pool of discomfort was left. In fact, him and Atsumu were the last ones in the gym, which was nothing out of the ordinary since his twin obsessed over perfecting his sets and serves. Staying well past the natural hour of practice was almost standard for them at this point.

“Tsumu,” he called out, whipping the sweat off his forehead. “Let’s go.”

“Wait! Just one more!”

“Stop being stubborn and let's go!”

“Gah! Fine! But if I get a cramp in ma leg for stopping so fast it’s all yer fault!”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

Begrudgingly, Atsumu gathered the volleyballs and equipment while Osamu whipped the floor, making quick work of their chores before leaving. They were on the final step, placing everything in the storage closet, with Osamu handing the last bit of equipment to Atsumu, who worked diligently to set everything back into place. Despite their differences and their constant bickering, they really did make a great team.

The spiker licked his lips, praising Atsumu’s toned back with his eyes, trailing them down all the way to his plump ass and those thighs hidden away by short. Curiously, he wondered what those tights would look like in a skirt as he crept up behind his brother, grabbing him by the hips and easing him back against his own pelvis, letting him feel his growing erection.

“You know how hard it’s been for me today? Osamu began huskily, gingerly nipping the blonde’s neck, sliding one hand down his toned thighs and groping. “I’ve been fighting a boner all day.”

“Samu?” Atsumu questioned in warning, peering back at him in the dim light of the closet. “Don—“

“Yer really popular with the guys, aren’tcha?” He noted, hand traveling from his thighs to his groin, messaging the mound that was forming, loving the way his brother tensed against him.

“S-Samu, not here,” the blonde insisted, trying to push the latter away as he tightened his grip and continued to fondle his forming erection.

“Why not? Afraid someone might hear you screaming my name?”

The setter groaned, shutting his eyes as his brother reached under his gym shorts and began stroking his soft cock, making him cave in; his touch was so addicting.

“ _Please_ ,” he panted, feeling Osamu pressing open-mouthed kisses against his neck as he leaned them against the wall. “L-let’s do this at home.”

“I’m tired of fuckin’ you at home, Tsumu. Let’s have sex _here_.”

“Ah—no!”

“Why are you trying to push me away, huh?” He frowned, moving them so he could bend Atsumu over an old, worn out desk, still stroking him lovingly. “Do you not like what I’m doing to ya?”

“I do!” He cried, feeling the wood dig into his skin as his brother pressed against him. “But not here! It’s embarrassing!”

Osamu sneered down at him. “You say it’s embarrassing, and yet I can feel you getting hard as a rock against my hand.”

“But—ah, S-samu...what if we get—“

“Caught?” He cooed, nudging his face into his neck, licking the mole he had there, continuing his heavy menstruations along Atsumu’s dick, pulling on smooth skin jaggedly, spreading his precum over the base. Atsumu was pudding in his hands. “Wouldn’t ya like that? Isn’t it thrilling getting yer brains fucked during school knowing anyone could walk in and hear yer pretty little mews.”

“Samu!”

“Oi, not too loud, I don’t want this to end _too_ quickly.”

“I can’t help it,” Atsumu groaned, sticking his tongue out like a dog in heat, arms shaking on the desk. “Yer hands feel so good jacking me off.”

Osamu smirked against his skin, head against his brother's shoulders as he used his free hand to pull down his own gym shorts and expose his burning cock, giving himself a couple of strokes. “Tsumu, let me fuck you right here.”

Atsumu moaned loudly, all semblance of resistance gone, bending over and pressing his ass against Osamu cock, who continued to nip at his neck.

“Pull yer shorts down all the way for me,” he instructed, steadying himself on his feet; if he was planning on fucking Atsumu against the desk he was going to need a lot of stamina and stability.

The blonde obliged, lust winning him over in mere seconds, as if he could resist his brother even if he tried. He was a puppet to his pleasure now, eyes shut tight as he felt Osamu push his length inside him, sighing in union as they rock back and forth, the desk creaking with every movement until—

“Where's Atsumu and Osamu?” A voice came from outside, a little distance away from the closet door (which they had locked), instantly shocking them both. They froze in place, blood running cold as Atsumu clenched around Osamu in fear, making the spiker groan quietly as he ceased all movements, forcing his labored breath to a screeching halt. The blonde clamped both hands over his mouth, shaking from their odd position and the fact that their teammates could walk in on them at any moment.

“I locked the door,” Osamu assured into a whisper, still fully penetrating his brother, who tried getting up.

“I thought I saw them stay later for practice but I guess they went home,” another muffled voice said from outside, then footsteps.

Atsumu kept his eyes peeled, heart hammering in his rib cage, wondering if their teammates could hear his booming heart from outside. Then he felt it, making his eyes almost water in shock as Osamu began to move against him, continuing his grinding, albeit softly. Atsumu whipped his head around, glaring at him— _what are you doing!?_ His eyes screamed, though he had to stifle a moan as Osamu angled his hips to better fuck into him slowly.

“S—Samu—stop!” He whispered into a scream, horrified.

“So weird, I swear they were just here,” the voice said, flicking the lights off. “Those twins are like magicians, they disappear out of thin air. They didn’t even turn the lights off.” And then the voices are gone along with the footsteps, nothing but the sound of the main door shutting closed, locking them in.

“Osamu! What the fuck is wrong with you!” Atsumu practically yelled once they were alone, smacking Osamu as he pulled out of him and turned him around.

“Sorry, you just looked and felt so hot, I thought it would be thrilling fucking you while they were here,” he explained, pressing the blonde against the desk until he laid flat on his back, wrapping his legs around his torso. As far as Osamu was concerned, he was still hard as a rock with a single thing on his mind.

“What do you think of this position?” He asked, grasping his cock and maneuvering it until he found Atsumu’s opening again.

“I think you should’ve been more fucking careful!”

“We didn’t get caught, did we?”

“Still!”

“How funny.”

“You think this is a joke?”

“No, but you’re usually the reckless one.” And he pushed himself past Atsumu’s resistance, making his twin arch against the creaky desk; no wonder they put that thing in storage.

“Ah—Samu—you’re too big.”

“You like that, huh?”

Atsumu nodded, gripping the edges of the desks as Osamu used one arm to wrap around his thigh, the other against the desks, steadying him as he pumped up inside his tight walls.

“Yer still so fucking tight after all the sex we’ve had,” Osamu noted, amazed, voice everything but disappointed. Atsumu couldn’t form words, instead he brought their lips together, adrenaline and pleasure mixing in a painful cocktail.

“I’d like to see ya in a skirt, Tsumu.”

“A w-what?” He choked.

“A skirt,” his brother repeated, lifting his brother’s shirt over his head, still thrusting into his twin, not breaking eye contact as his gaze lowered to their sex. “Your ass and tights would look really hot in a skirt.”

“I’m not a fucking girl, ya know,” he grumbled, a little peeved and a little turned on by the thought....wait—what was the last one? No, he refused to degrade himself like that.

“I’ll let you do anything to me,” Osamu proposed, knowing how much Atsumu marveled at the chance of gaining some type of power; he was a tyrant at heart, after all. “Let me fuck you in a skirt and I’ll let ya do whatever you want to me, it doesn’t even have to be sexual if ya want, I can be your bitch for a day or sum.”

“You already are,” he teased, making the other smirk and wrap his hand around Atsumu’s dick.

“Funny,” Osamu sneered, pressing the tip of his brother’s cock flat against his stomach and rubbing. “In this position I’m sure you’re the little bitch right now.”

“S’not fair!”

“Sure it is. Now, what do you say about my proposition?”

“S-Samu! I’m close—“

“Tell me yer answer first,” he demanded, leaving Atsumu’s cock alone and concentrating on fucking his brother’s brains out against the desk. “T-tell me you’ll let me do it.”

“Beg.”

“Fuck off.”

“Beg me, Samu, I wanna hear how much ya wanna fuck me in a skirt.”

“Shit,” Osmau grinded his teeth, close to his own orgasm as Atsumu’s hot walls tightened against his head and length. “I think I’d bust a nut right now thinking of fucking ya in a pretty little skirt. Yer tights—ah—their perfect for skirts.”

“S-Samu!”

Hearing Osamu’s hot, demanding voice full of desire was enough to tip Atsumu over the edge, making him climax against their stomachs. He rubbed his own cock as Osamu came right after, pushing deep inside him, lost in his sex and orgasm as his brother milked ever last drop from him, arms and legs shaking against the desk as he held himself up for so long.

“Fuck,” he panted, pulling out swiftly and tumbling against a discarded chair, legs weak. “Fuck I’ve never came so hard.”

“Now I’m all dirty,” Atsumu whined, still catching his breath against the desk, left as he was, thighs spread open, gym shirt wrinkled and over his head, exposing his nipples, cock flaccid against his stained stomach as he panted. All in all, it made for a very obscene sight that had Osamu wanting to fuck him again.

“I’d fuck you again if I could,” he began, voicing his perverse thoughts. “But I’m too fuckin’ tired.”

“You horn dog,” Atsumu accused with no real bite, getting up to fix himself, wiping his stomach with a discarded towel. “Are we locked in?” He questioned, fixing his clothes, whipping any residue off the desk with the same rag.

“Nah, I got a spare key, lucky us, right?”

This all felt somewhat premeditated now, though Atsumu chose to ignore the slight suspicion.

“Thank god, I need a fucking bath.”

“I wonder if mom would think it’s weird if we bathed together.”

“I don’t think so, we’ve bathed together before.”

“Let’s go then, I’m getting hungry too.”

—

Atsumu awoke the next morning with a ringing in his ears.

Hot. He felt hot and sticky, and not in a good way.

Rising from bed, the blonde fought against lightheadedness and grogginess, more so than usual as he cleared a knot in his throat with force. Something didn’t feel right, something inside his body felt hot and weak, almost as if his mind and senses were clouded up by a foreign pressure. Was he getting sick?

Just then, Osamu walked in the room, freshly showered and drying the last bit of residue off his gray hair.

“Ya finally up, sleeping beauty?” He mused, ambling toward the top bunk and leaning on the railing. “We’re gonna be late for school and it’s gonna be yer fault.”

“I’m up! I’m up!” He grumbled, ignoring the sting in his head, overcoming the dizziness that overtook his mind and body as he rose from bed. With slight difficulty, he got dressed, not bothering to take a shower since he was already late. Slowly, the dulling feeling from that morning subsided and his usual personality flashed through, though Atsumu was far from feeling 100%, he managed to go on with what he had, which wasn’t much as the day dragged on.

‘Fuck, this better not get in the way of volleyball practice,” he though, gripping the bathroom counter of their gym locker room, glaring at his reflection, willing the grogginess away. It might be a fever, he reasoned, enraged with himself and the world. Who the fuck gave him a fever? Osamu? No, he hadn’t looked sick, in fact, his brother hadn’t gotten sick in years. Maybe one of their teammates? Yet, none of them showed visible signs of sickness either. Then who could have gotten him sick?

“You good, Atsumu-kun?”

Atsumu’s eyes snapped up, meeting the frigid and stony ones of one Kita Shinsuke, who was already clad in his volleyball uniform. He nodded mutely, running a hand through his blonde fringe, knowing how sensitive their volleyball captain was towards “sick” teammates.

“Yeah, just finished washing my hands,” he lied.

“Your cheeks are a little flush,” Kita, ever the observant bastard, pointed out. “Are you sure everything is alright?” He asked, and to Atsumu’s horror, reached out, about to touch his forehead with the palm of his hand when he stopped that pesky little hand right in its tracks, wrapping his bigger hand around the boy’s delicate wrist.

“I said I’m good,” he insisted with finality as the bathroom door creaked open.

“Tsumu, what's the hold up—“

Osamu walked in the bathroom just then, stopping mid-step when he stumbled upon the scene before him, noting how close the boys were. Naturally, he knew nothing was going on between the two, after all, Atsumu had made his feelings towards him abundantly clear, and he was almost certain Kita had no interest in anyone right now. And yet, he couldn’t help feel as though he had interrupted something private, _intimate_ almost, and the sight made something heavy and unpleasant spill inside his stomach.

“Nothing,” Atsumu settled, releasing Kita’s wrist and walking over to his brother, only to be yanked back by the hem of his collar, almost choking him.

“What the fuck?” He gaped.

“You might have a rash, Atsumu-kun,” Kita continued his blunt rampage, noting the red marks littering the blonde’s neck. “You have marks all over your neck, did you eat something that gave you an allergic reaction? If so, we must escort you to the nurse’s office immediately.”

“What marks?” Atsumu barked, stomach seizing as he cursed the knee-jerk reaction of covering the hickies with lightning speed, looking guilty as hell. “No, I don’t think I have any marks!”

‘He’s being way too obvious,’ Osamu thought, rolling his indolent eyes, wondering how he could diffuse the situation in a way that wouldn’t set off Kita’s sensitive nose to bullshit.

“It might’ve been that peach you had this morning, Tsumu,” Osamu began, giving his brother a dead stare, which, to anyone else would mean nothing, but to his beloved brother, meant code for— _play along_. “Maybe that’s what gave you a rash.”

Atsumu blinked, unsure, though he slipt into his role well like the sly fox he was, following his brother’s lead. “It might’ve been, my throat is kinda itchy too.”

“Then we must inform the nurse immediately,” Kita announced, seizing Atsumu’s maroon jacket, about to lead him out of the locker room bathroom when the boy yanked out of his hold.

“Nah, nah! I’m good, I swear!” He fought back, standing his ground. “I ain’t going over to the nurse’s office over some stupid rash, I wanna play.”

“You can play any other day, this needs immediate attention,” the shorter countered, jaded eyes unrelenting as he tugged on the boy's jacket.

“I ain’t going! S’not like I’m gonna die!” Atsumu growled, an odd reaction to have when it came to their volleyball captain, whose presence usually demanded respect from the blonde. Osamu, noting his brother’s distress, pressed a calming hand to his shoulder.

“Why don’t ya just sit this one out if ya don’t wanna go to the nurse's office then,” Osamu offered, acting as the mediator between the two, wanting to come to a compromise since it was in their best interest to keep Atsumu away from the nurses office. She’d see right through their bullshit.

“That’s like tellin’ me to stop breathing!” Atsumu bared his teeth, stubborn as always, headache threatening to consume him as he bawled his fist. “I’m fine, just leave me alone,” he finished, storming out of the locker room, leaving two blinking teammates in his wake, staring at the place he’d just been.

“Today’s practice should be fun,” Kita mumbled, exiting the bathroom with a sighing Osamu in tow.

Atsumu, for his part, grumbled all the way to his spot on the gym floor, some distance away from his teammates who were all sparsely scattered around, doing their regular stretching exercises before practice. Attempting to stifle his dampened mood, he extended his legs, beginning his warm up when a warm and reassuring pressure eases itself on his back, two familiar hands kneading his tense shoulder blades.

“You almost got us caught, dipshit,” Osamu began, helping his brother stretch.

The blonde scoffed, annoyed and a little mortified. “Give me a fuckin break, yer the one who gave me the damn things in the first place.” His ears burned, feeling his twin’s face hover over his ear, teasingly nudging him with his nose, running his hands from shoulder to spine.

“Hmm, maybe I’ll give you some more peaches tonight?” He cooed, loving the way his brother tensed against him. “Yer face is a little red though, what have you been thinking about, hm?”

“I’m not—“

“You two seem to be in a happy mood,” Rintaro interrupted, hands beside his hips, astute eyes peeking through narrow slits. “What’s the secret?”

Osamu recovered quickly. “Just giving this little shit a hard time since he’s out of his element today,” he joked, ruffling Atsumu’s hair, making the setter deadpan.

“Why am I the butt of everyone’s joke?” He cursed.

The middle blocker gave Atsumu a pointed look. “That so, Miya-kun? Better not throw off your game today.”

“Oh, kind of like that one time you slept during a match?” Atsumu countered, feeling his brother hesitate against him.

“That was one time, ya little shit! I had exams the next day and I stayed up all night studying for them!”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“Why you little—“

“Hold it!” Aran announced, placing himself as a physical barrier between the two foxes, a karate chop separating them both. “You two are in the same team, not the opposite. Let’s all work together as one.”

“No one’s fighting,” Atsumu assured, cunning as a fox. “Plus, even if there was one it wouldn’t be much of a fight against sleeping beauty anyways,” he taunted, bouncing from side to side on the balls of his feet. “Just tell ‘em to keep up with me.”

Rintaro smirked, the challenge sparking a fire inside his scrutinizing eyes. “Might wanna watch your mouth, Miya boy, before that rash reaches your pretty little face and ruins it.”

Atsumu’s eyes darken with malice, ignoring Osamu’s signals to calm down. “I’ll show ya a pretty face,” he sneered, slamming the palm of his hand against a volleyball, making it crack against the floor.

“Ohhh, look at me, I’m trembling,” Rintarou taunted, hands forming that signature pose of his when things got intense.

“Really, guys?” Aran sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose, exasperated. “It’s usually the Miya twins I have to pry apart, now you two?”

Osamu observed them quietly, watching his brother and their middle blocker shoot daggers at each other, amusement in his eyes. “Looks like Tsumu is pickin’ a fight with everyone today.”

“Me pickin’ a fight?” Atsumu scoffed, offended, racking a hand through his yellow hair, which already felt a little damp with sweat, a sudden weakness descending on him; why did he feel so hot? “How about everyone’s pickin’ a fight with me!?”

“Unavoidable,” his brother countered, hands behind his head. “Yer practically begging for a spanking.”

Atsumu, ignoring the poignant pain shooting through his skull, rolled his jaw. “Ah yeah, and what? You gonna give it to me?” His eyes brightened with a knowing smirk, one that Osamu returned tenfold.

“Keep talking like that and maybe I will.”

“Looks like you got the whole team against you, Atsumu boy,” Rintaro tacked on, already on the other end of the net, ready to receive any serve thrown his way.

“Nothing new,” he spat, getting a good grip on the ball, his lethal serve aimed at his dark-haired teammate, who received it quiet easily.

“That was way too easy, are we playing casual?” He laughed in mock humor, making a vein pop on the blonde’s temple. “You really are off your game, huh?”

“Shut yer shit hole!”

“That type of language is unnecessary,” Kita interjected, visibly put off by the words aimed like knives sent by their prodigal setter. “And I still think you should go to the nurses office.”

“I ain’t going,” Atsumu grumbled, pouting like a petulant child, nursing a deep glare, already brandishing beads of sweat on his forehead despite the minimal exertion.

“Kita-san, can I have a swig of yer water?” Osamu asked then, already holding the captain’s bottle in hand, causing Atsumu to direct his glare at him.

‘Why the fuck is he getting ol’ rice-head’s bottle?’ He thought, peeved.

“Sure.” Their captain nodded.

“Oi, I brought water over there,” Atsumu growled, pointing a heavy finger at his bottle of water.

“It’s too far,” Osamu drawled, loving the way his brother huffed in annoyance. There was an irrefutable fact about Osamu, and that was the fact that he loved making Atsumu mad as hell.

“I’m gonna clobber ya.”

He shrugged, taking a swig from Kita’s bottle anyway, ambling towards the court nonchalantly, resuming his position as the team comencéd practice. About an hour into it though, Atsumu’s movements become erratic, his plays more aggressive and maybe even a little sloppy. He’s sweating bullets now, face hot and pulsing, blinking the fog away as he fought to maintain balance at times. For a split second, his vision blurred, the room tilted and he’s forced to blink rapidly in order to get a hold of his bearings. By the end of practice, Atsumu was a heaving mess of muscle mass, hot and uncomfortable, even stumbling on his own feet. Yet, he refused to acknowledge it, much less show it, not wanting to prove Kita right. He was a stubborn asshole to the bitter end.

With a faint trace of irritation, he noticed Kita about to hand his bottle over to Osamu again, and in one foul swoop, he knocked into him, replacing the bottle with his own.

“Stop swappin’ germs, ya dingus,” he grumbled lowly, catching the way his brother brushed their fingers together.

“Jealous much?” Osamu teased, licking the rim, knowing the blonde was scrutinizing his every move.

 _‘The bastard’s doing it on purpose,’_ Atsumu thought. “As if, dick,” he growled, turning on his heel, taking one step when suddenly his world spun, room flipping over as a sudden weakness descended on him. Displaced, disoriented and a little sick, he stumbled to the floor with a loud _thud_! The heat and fog in his mind gripped his senses with an iron fist, splitting his head in two as white noise pierced his ears.

“‘Tsumu!” Osamu blurted, bolting to his side in mere seconds, gripping his shoulder with force, worry edged into his features. The rest of the team zeroed in on them, asking what was wrong and if he was okay; all their voices were mushed and distant, muffled, all except Osamu’s.

Atsumu screwed his eyes shut, head in shambles as his teammate’s worried voices made his head spin; all he wanted was to go home and sleep.

He groaned, all pretense of acting normal dropped, replaced by a deep frown on his face as his gut twisted. “Ugh, my head,” he groaned, touching his forehead, hand replaced by Osamu’s cooler ones in a blink of an eye.

“Christ, yer burning up!” He hissed, helping his twin off the floor, arm around his waist. “Why didn’t ya tell me you were feeling sick,” he scolded.

“Cuz I didn’t want ya worrying,” Atsumu grounded out, head bowed, feeling the heat intensify. “Don’t take me to the nurses office, I wanna go home.”

“Ya need to lay down for a bit,” Osamu insisted, looking down when his twin gripped his shirt.

“ _Samu_ ,” he pleaded, in a tone his brother could not resist.

“Fine,” he relented after a minute or two, “but I’m callin’ mom to pick us up.”

“Do you need any help carrying him?” Aran offered, hands already in a carrying motion as they made it outside.

“Thanks, but I think I’ve got him,” Osamu nodded. “I’m just gonna call mom and get her to pick us up.”

“Guess you really _were_ off your game, huh?” Rintarou pipped in, no actual bite to his words, a bit of a crease on his forehead.

“I told him to go to the nurses office,” Kita added.

“Shut it,” the blonde grumbled, low and sickly, attempting to shoot them a fuming glare but failing.

“Reserve yer energy, ya idiot,” Osamu reproached, fishing his cell phone from his pocket and dialing their mother’s number, who picked up after two rings and promised to be there as soon as possible.

“Oh, ‘Tsumu baby,” she cooed once they were both in the car, the blonde laying against his brother’s shoulder in the back seat. “Ya should’ve told me you were feeling sick.”

“I thought it was my allergies acting up,” he mumbled, trying to huddle into a ball, snuggling deeper into Osamu’s neck, his scent calming.

“What do you feel?” She questioned, shooting worried glances every few seconds through the rear view mirror.

Atsumu moaned, frown edged horribly into his pale features. “Hot, weak—like I got a huge pressure in my head.”

She nodded, a knowing look on her maternal face. “You might have a fever, maybe even the flu,” she noted, chewing her lip. “Don’t worry, baby, mommy’s gonna take care of you, okay?”

He nodded, sighing in the comfort his mother and Osamu provided. Before he knew it, he blacked out somewhere along the ride, waking up a day later dazed and worse for the wear. Holding his eyes opened had even become a chore, but he noticed he wasn’t in his own bed, in fact, this was Osamu’s bunk. He twisted and gripped the sheets under him, calling out his name only to realize he was alone and distraught. Atsumu fell back into a dreamless sleep, sweating his lungs out during the night and day.

A constant stream of rhythmic memories washed over him in waves, and through the mosh of memories came the haunting sight of his disappointed mother. She glared down at him as if he was a smudge of dirt on her heel; a glare so vehemently disdainful, it made him cower in fear.

She knew.

She knew the disgusting things he had done, the sexual travesties _they_ had committed and now she had forsaken them. The nightmare shook through him violently, scaring him awake as he shot up, breath labored and coarse, scaring the living daylights out of his mother, who sat next to him.

“A nightmare?” She supplied, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind his ear.

Atsumu drank in her sight, searching her face for any sign of disgust—she wasn’t mad? She wasn’t disgusted with him? It had all been a nightmare? Sighing, he eased back into the bed, turning sideways, not wanting to feel the burn of her eyes against his skin.

“Yeah.” He nodded, nostrils clogged and unable to smell the food that she prepared for him

“I brought ya some soup,” she began, grazing his forehead with a damp towel. “You should eat something in order to get back yer strength, dear. Luckily, yer fever has gone down considerably.”

His stomach grumbled yet he wasn’t hungry, he felt sick and empty, but he wasn’t hungry.

“How long have I been out?”

“Two days. You’ve been in and out of consciousness. You had me and yer dad worried beyond belief, I thought I would have to take you to the hospital soon.”

Atsumu frowned, lips formed into a thin line. He despised hospitals, ever since that one time Osamu dislocated his shoulder and they were forced apart amid the cold and haunting white hallways. At times, if he tried hard enough, he could still hear the haunting cries of pain from his brother.

“Where's Samu?” He asked next, mouth dry.

“I sent him to school. He insisted on staying right by yer side but I forced him to go.”

Atsumu’s heart clenched, wanting to see his brother.

“Mom…” he hesitated, biting his lip. “How much do you love me and Samu?”

She blinked, taken aback by the sudden inquiry. “I love you to the moon and back, dear, you know that.” She stroked his hair gently, soft gaze fixed on him.

Atsumu almost trembled in fear. “Even if we make mistakes?”

“Tsumu, honey,” his mother began, a hint of worry in her tone. “What’s this all about? Did something happen?”

The blonde bit the inside of his mouth hard enough to tasted blood, swallowing the bile that inched up his throat.

He couldn’t tell her. Not now. Not ever.

Swallowing, he shook his head against Osamu’s pillow, disappointed that he couldn't smell his calming scent. “Just wondering.”

“Well of course I’ll still love you, darling, doesn’t matter what you do. You’ll always be my little dandelion.”

Atsumu’s heart swelled with pain, fists tightening against the sheets, wondering what she would think if he told her the truth, if she knew the extent of their profane secrets. He didn’t dare utter a word though, terrified of breaking the dream he had forced himself to believe.

His mother readjusted the blankets around his frame, which had been haphazardly thrown around in his sleep. “The soup is right next to you,” she informed, rising from her seat. “Eat up and get better, I’ll come back in a couple of minutes to collect the dishes.”

With one final brush of his disheveled hair, she left, leaving him to toy with the tumult in his head. Truth be told, his appetite eluded him greatly, in fact, he felt sick to his stomach and the last thing he wanted was to upset it further, but he knew his mother had worked arduously to nurse him back to health, and he didn’t want to disregard her efforts. Taking the spoon in his hand as he sat up, Atsumu gathered enough courage and strength to finish half of the soup, the rest was pushing it.

Falling back into a crumbling sleep, he doesn’t wake up until later that night, head in shambles as he blinked awake. First thing he noticed was the absence of a headache, that, coupled with the fact that his body heats were gone, made him sigh in relief. Second, he noticed a vase with flowers on his bed-side table, a flame of scarlet catching the corner of his eye—red spider lilies. Resting against the vase was an immaculate card with the words ‘To: Atsumu, From: Mom’ written on it.

“Mom brought you those while you were out cold,” Osamu supplied from somewhere in the room. “Brought you more medicine too.”

Atsumu glanced over to the source of his voice, watching his twin roll his way on their gaming chair, holding a volleyball between his fingertips.

“How ya feeling?” He asked, slight worry working busily at his brow.

“Like shit.”

“You look like it too.”

Atsumu clicked his tongue, annoyed. “Gee, thanks.”

“No but seriously, you almost gave us a heart attack, Tsumu. You were out for almost four days.”

The blonde flinched, a wrinkle on his brow—four goddamn days? For fucks sake, he’d missed so much volleyball practice. Gingerly, and without much thought, he reached out and touched the spider lilies his mother had brought.

“Guess I really am the stronger twin,” Osamu added, leaning back against the chair. “I haven’t gotten sick.”

“Give me a kiss and maybe you will.”

“Ew, gross, I don’t wanna end up like you.”

“If ya really are the stronger twin then you won’t have to worr—“ he’s cut off mid-sentence by Osamu’s mouth on his lips, eyes closed as he tilted his head, moaning into his mouth. Disgustingly, Osamu slipped his tongue in, tasting Atsumu, who wrenched back.

“Yer gross, I haven’t brushed my teeth, dumbass,” he growled, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand. Why would his twin do something like that? Though the excitement in the pit of his stomach was inexplicable.

“There, if I don’t get sick from that it proves I’m the stronger twin,” he proposed, a prideful glint in his eyes as he moved a strand of sickly blonde hair out of Atsumu’s face. “You are feeling better though, right?”

The blonde rose from the bed, happy that the movement didn’t cause his world to tilt. “Yeah, a lot better.”

“Good, everyone’s been worried about ya, even Machi.”

Atsumu glanced at him. “What she say?”

“Just that she hoped you got better,” Osamu informed, hands behind his head. “Want me to feed you some peaches?” He smirked.

“Fuck off.”

“Tsumu, come here,” the setter beckoned with his hand, leaning in.

“I’m gonna get ya sick…” Atsumu grumbled, leaning in despite himself, cheeks twinging with a hint of pink when his brother’s gaze fell against his lips.

“I don’t care,” Osamu whispered, pressing their lips together, hand snacking behind his brother’s neck, drawing him closer. “I’ve missed you.”

“I’ve been right here.”

“That’s not what I meant.” And he made a motion with his hand, showing him exactly what he missed.

Atsumu broke the kiss, flustered, averting his gaze towards the red spider lilies their mother had brought; her words struck him like a hammer.

_I’ll still love you, darling._

Would she?

“I got some good news,” Osamu began, snapping him out of his trance, spinning the volleyball on his fingertip.

“What?”

“Mom and dad are gonna be out of town next month.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the Miya parents are going to be out of town next week...wonder what’s gonna happen...also, I just found out this week that Atsumu is the older twin? Apparently, it said this on Osamu’s nenroid figure, that he was the younger twin, so do with that as you please.
> 
> Symbolic meaning behind peaches: while peaches often symbolize longevity and immortality, they can also symbolize softness, sexuality, tenderness, love, femininity, and fertility. In ancient cultures the peaches juices were tied to female arousal, though it can represent that for both men and women.
> 
> Spider lilies symbolism: are associated with final goodbyes, death and reincarnation.
> 
> What do you think so far?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: you will need Jesus after this chapter.

“Maybe your girlfriend will like the smell of this one instead.”

The pungent smell of perfume and coffee wafted in the air like a heavy cloud, plugging up Osamu’s senses and making his nose scrunch up.

“That color looks beautiful on you!”

He felt out of place here. Odd.

“It goes well with her eyes, don’t you think?”

He stood between racks of clothes—no, to be more specific, he stood between racks of clothes in the  _ women's _ section, specifically, the skirts department.

Out of his element, Osamu stood stock still, lips in a line, hands stashed in his pockets as he feigned composure, indolent eyes roving across the fields of clothes. Conversations buzzed around him like clockwork as he skewered each skirt with conflicting eyes, wondering which one, out of the sea of material, would look good.

_ ‘Why are there so many?’ _ He thought with a frown, eyes darting towards a pair of girls passing by with a giggle, glancing at him.  _ ‘They probably think I’m a pervert.’ _

To be fair, he was, but only for his brother.

Exasperated and a little overwhelmed by the unlimited amount of selection, Osamu leaned back with a sigh, eyes unintentionally landing on a couple on the other side of the store, lounging around the perfume section. They were beautifully alluring almost, a tall, handsome man with an equally beautiful woman by his side, a textbook-copy of  _ the _ perfect couple. The girlfriend or fiancé, it seemed, held a bright smile as she tried on perfumes, letting her partner smell her wrists with each fragrance, his hand protectively around her waist.

Osamu swallowed.

A faint sense of dejection pricking his chest at the thought that him and Atsumu could never be  _ that _ ordinary couple. Never. Even if they wanted to. They could never walk in public whilst holding hands, kiss, or even embrace like that. It was too intimate, too taboo, too morally incorrect, and Osamu was no blind man to the gravity of their situation. He could picture them all, the looks of disgust flung their way as they attempted to look like a normal couple out in the open.

Shamefully, the potential backlash wasn’t enough to stop him from craving the forbidden intimacy of mundane tenderness, normal couples things that were so simple yet so unattainable for them. He wanted everything, from the simplicity of a kiss, to the more heavier, lustfilled sessions of sex. Greedily, he craved it all, like a child with a bowl of candy. And yet, the fact that he couldn’t publicly display his love like normal couples could, carved a hole in the deepest part of his soul.

Osamu glowered at the skirts, a trace of indignation on his face.

That picture-perfect couple could never be them, never grant them peace, there were far too many obstacles, far too many boundaries he wasn’t sure Atsumu would be willing to overcome, not yet, at least. Osamu was more than willing to overstep those boundaries, already losing himself to all kinds of debauchery with his brother, but he feared Atsumu might not want the same thing.

That fear kept him grounded.

In the back of his mind, that fear lingered—what if Atsumu believed this to be some kind of phase? A passing indulgence of lust, further developed by new and forbidden sensations? Overpowering hormones that he might grow out of or grow bored with after they had their fill?

Distraught, Osamu shook his head; it wasn’t just lust, not for him. Yes, he loved being balls deep inside his brother, loved hearing his little mews and voice calling out his name, but his feelings extended beyond that, it wasn’t mere lust. In fact, the simple notion of only wanting him for sex sickened him to the core. His twin brother wasn’t a toy or an object for sexual gratification, he wasn’t corrupting Atsumu as a sick sexual fetish.

He loved Atsumu. Truly, earnestly and wholeheartedly loved his brother.

If Osamu could, he would even marry him, that’s how far his twisted and corrupted love went. Yet, the dissolutions were far too great, and a deprived monster like him didn't deserve happiness anyways.

It was disgusting, right? Wanting to marry your own brother, your own flesh and blood? He should feel disgusted with himself, should regret everything, and yet, all he felt was disappointment, disappointment in the fact that he could never marry him. Disappointed that whatever he and Atsumu have right now will eventually stop, they’ll part ways and be forced into someone else’s arms, someone who could check off all the boxes they could never do for themselves.

It bothered him.

But most importantly, he would  _ never _ marry Atsumu, even given the chance. He didn’t want to put him in a position of suffering, or force the world to hate him, because, to marry his brother would tie the knot around their demise within the world.

Osamu could handle family and strangers lunging ill phrases at him, but not towards Atsumu, never him.

“Do you need help looking for something, sir?” An employee asked, startling Osamu out of his reverie.

“No, thank you.” He bowed, swallowing the lump in his throat, continuing his search through the skirt section with a keen eye. In the end, half an hour later, he picked a simple pleated black skirt with a red rim along it’s base, a soft white lace underneath, and while he was at it, he bought a black crop top to match, wondering if Atsumu would even wear such a thing. His twin was notoriously petulant and haughty when he wanted to be.

“Oh, this is so cute!” The cashier noted when he made it to her. “Your girlfriend will be so happy!”

He smiled at her easy assumption. “She will,” he agreed.  _ ‘And Atsumu will look great in it too _ ,’ he thought.

Unintentionally, Osamu wandered over to the perfume and jewelry section after collecting his bag, unabashedly looking for that couple he had seen. They were gone, but he stared down at the array of jewelry, admiring the rings.

“Have someone in mind?” A handsome gentleman from behind the glass display offered, a charming smile fastened to his lips, black hair neat and around his eyes, an appearance of a true ladies man.

Now, Osamu had enough self preservation to feel slightly intimidated, though he cloaked it well.

“My girlfriend,” he lied, feeling a pinch of dread as the older man scrutinized him under a cool brow.

“Ah.” He nodded. “You’re a handsome young man after all, it isn’t a surprise you're buying something for her. Well, were you looking for a ring?”

He frowned; he wasn’t really…

“Maybe.” He shrugged, unsure. “I don’t have a lot of money.” It was true, he didn’t have a job after all, his money came from years of accumulated allowances and money earned for cooking for friends and family.

“Don’t worry, I have just the selection.” The clerk beckoned, drawing him over to the far side of the glass with a flick of his wrist. Osamu, not wanting to be impolite, followed him despite not intending on buying anything since he already had what he needed, plus he didn’t want to go over his budget. Rings were expensive, right? Sell-your-soul kind of expensive? Or so he heard, but upon further inspection, he couldn’t help feel allured by their beauty and simplicity. A good match for Atsumu, who wasn’t the flashy type when it came to what he put on his body, everything else was a different story.

“These are on the lower end, friendlier on the budget but equally as priceless. I’ll let you look around on your own, and when you find something to your liking, I’ll grant you an extra discount since you're buying something special for the lady,” he said with a smile full of subtle charm. “I’ll be right over there if you need me.”

The guy had finesse, Osamu would give him that much, he’d refined the art of subtle bargaining and he couldn’t even be mad. Curiously, he glanced at the rings, not intended on really buying one until his eyes landed on a slim gold ring, almost luminescent with the added sparkle of the glass. That one. That one would look great on Atsumu.

And yet, one glance at the price and he winced, knowing it was out of his budget like he’d first surmised. Disappointed, he squared his jaw, thinking back to that couple he had seen.

It was too good to be true after all...

That evening, while Atsumu was in the shower, he stuffed the gift in a place he knew his brother would never check, which wasn’t hard since Atsumu hardly went in their closet. Cunning, like a devious fox, he stashed the gift and smiled up at the blonde after his well-deserved shower.

“You,” Atsumu grimaced, towel around his neck once he was out. “Why are ya smiling at me like that?”

“Like what?”

“Suspiciously.”

“Is it a crime to smile at you?”

“Yes.”

With a chuckle, Osamu beckoned him over. “Tsumu, come here.” He palmed his lap.

“I don’t wanna.”

His brother was being stubborn for the hell of it and Osamu mentally calmed himself with a sigh.

“I ain’t gonna bite ya.”

“The hickies on my thighs say otherwise.”

“If I remember correctly you were begging me to give you more.”

Mortified, the blonde advanced towards him, bunching up his shirt with a fists. “You think you’re so cool, don’tcha!?”

“Oi, listen,” Osamu began, bringing Atsumu onto his lap, all semblance of mock anger dropped. “Mom and dad will be gone next weekend,” he whispered, searching his face for any weaknesses.

“I know…” Atsumu grumbled, working out the wrinkles he’d caused on his brother’s shirt. Their parents going on vacation was nothing out of the ordinary, in fact, it was an annual occurrence. Each year they’d take off a single weekend, starting from Friday and coming back late Monday, spending a couple of days to unwind and relax. Before, the Miya twins didn’t even bat an eyelash at their departure, now, their vacancy held deeper connotations.

“You know what it means, right?” Osamu suggested, running a delicate hand down Atsumu’s spine, gingerly grazing each bone until he wrapped his palm around his ass, squeezing.

“Y-yes.”

“Are you scared?”

He shoved him. “Why would I be scared?”

“You sound scared.”

“Well I ain’t.”

“It’s okay to be nervous, Tsumu.” He leaned into his chest, taking in his scent, enamoured by the way Atsumu played with his hair. “Even if we’ve fucked every which way, it’s still okay to be nervous. It’s a turn on, really.”

“Nope. I don’t wanna talk about this!” The blonde groaned, moving off of Osamu’s lap and climbing onto his bed. “I’m going to sleep.”

“Aw, no goodnight kiss?”

“No!”

He chuckled, knowing Atsumu hated being doted on anywhere outside of sex, which reminded him, they hadn’t fucked in a couple of days. In fact, Osamu was certain they wouldn’t mess around until their parent’s left, which felt like a task and a thrill all in the same breath. It meant that once they were finally alone and left to their own devices, their sexual frustration would bubble over and explode with euphoric intensity.

At least, that’s how Osamu pictured it in his head.

Nurturing the thought and desire, he waited patiently along with Atsumu, who took out his sexual frustration on the volleyball court. Attentively, he made sure to not to rile up his brother too much; didn’t even touch him for that matter, not even when the blonde begged him to jack him off one night.

It was torture of the sweetest kind.

Sitting behind Atsumu in class was agonizing though. All he wanted to do was bend him over and dominate him until he had his cum running down his thighs.

Sometimes, the need would be so intense he’d find himself stroking one out in the boys bathroom, groaning as he came in his hands. Which didn’t compare to the almost religious jerking sessions he had in the shower, closing his eyes and picturing Atsumu on his knees, pleasing him with his mouth. Yet, his own hands were a poor replacement for Atsumu’s expert ones, a mock imitation of the arousal his twin fed him in spoonfuls. His own touch left him starved for the real deal, nearly breaking his resolve when Atsumu wrapped a hand around a banana and swallowed it down. That fucker did it on purpose, too.

Finally, the day came.

Anticipation built up inside Osamu like a volcanic eruption, sensing the same suspense from within his brother as they arrive home that Thursday evening to a living room full of suitcases and bags. His stomach clenched with excitement and nervousness, helping their parents load the final bags into the car.

“Make sure you take out the trash tonight, Samu,” instructed their mother, kissing his forehead. “Remember that the trash collectors come by tomorrow to pick it up.”

“Alright.”

“And don’t forget to water my plants, Tsumu.”

“I won’t.”

“Make sure to close the blinds in the middle of the day so the sun won’t heat up the house too much—oh, and don't forget to turn off all the lights at night, okay?”

“We already know, mom, we’re not little kids anymore, ya know,” Atsumu pointed out, standing taller than his own mother.

“I know, I know.” She pinched his cheek, earning a groan from the blonde. “But I can't help dooting on you two, you’re still my little boys! Come here!” And she enveloped them in a tight embrace, adding a gentle squeeze. “I’m so proud of you two, you know that?” Atsumu tensed. “The most perfect sons a mother could ever ask for.”

Osamu’s eyes find his brother, who had his face tilted away, though the slight pressure in his jaw said it all—shame.

“Alright, boys,” their father announced from the stairs, carrying the final suitcase to the living room. “That seems to be the last of it,” he huffed, ruffling their foreheads, “you both know what to do, we trust you. No parties while we're gone. No girls either—“ he eyed the blonde. “Be smart and take care of each other,” he finalized, dropping a reassuring hand on their shoulders. “Ya both are men, that means we’re leaving the responsibility of this house and each other on you two while we’re gone, alright?”

“Yes, sir!” They affirm in union, looking as serious as soldiers on the brink of war.

“Good.” He patted their shoulders. “And I’m serious about the  _ no _ girls policy, Atsumu.”

“I ain’t bringing any girls, dad!” He groaned, watching Osamu give him a look.

“Not even Machi.”

“I told ya, we broke up.”

“I know, but I also know how guy’s work, so if you gotta do anything be safe about it.” And he leaned into his son’s ear. “Don’t tell yer mother I said this but make sure yer using protection, got it?”

Atsumu blinked, feeling his face heat up. “Alright, alright! I get it!” He shoved him playfully, glaring.

“Goodbye, boys! We’ll see you in three days!” Their mother waved goodbye as they got in the car, Atsumu and Osamu waving back until their parents pulled out of the driveway and headed off towards their destination, the golden sun laying out in the horizon.

“We’re finally alone now,” Osamu pointed out, eyes glued on the direction their parents had just been, excitement pooling in his stomach.

“We’re alone,” Atsumu agreed, still not looking away, almost frightened to do so.

“What dad tell ya?” The spiker began, finally turning, hands in his pockets.

“Nothing,” the blonde grumbled, sidestepping him and heading inside the house.

“Oi.” Osamu clutched onto Atsumu’s waist once they were inside, enveloping him in a tight embrace from behind. “Come on, tell me what he said.”

“Stop!”

“I won’t stop ticklin’ ya till you tell me what he said!”

“Fine!” Atsumu barked, a subtle blush diffusing across his cheeks. “He said I should use a condom.”

Osamu released his hold for a split second. “Maybe we should.”

“What’s the point?” The blonde spat, ambling towards the kitchen with Osamu still wrapped around him. “S’not like I’m gonna get pregnant.”

“Condoms aren’t just for stopping pregnancy, Tsumu.”

“Whatever, let’s stop talking about this,” he demanded, escaping Osamu’s hold with a glare.

“I like how ya never change, Tsumu. You’re still so shy despite all we’ve done.”

“I ain’t shy!”

“Sure you aren't.” He smirked, wandering over to the fridge. “And the sky is red,” he scoffed.

“Maybe it is,” he argued sourly, tapping his foot against the wood. “After all, it is sunset outside.”

“True.”

Atsumu looked at him impatiently.

“What?” Osamu inquiered, palm wrapped around the fridge handle.

“Aren’t we gonna—you know—do  _ it _ now?” The blonde asked, motioning around to get his point across. Osamu snorted.

“Aren’t we impatient today?” He chuckled, leaning against the fridge with a smug smirk. “Want my dick so bad?”

“Fuck off!”

“As much as I want to fuck you right now we gotta wait a little, at least till we’re certain mom and dad won’t come back unexpectedly, ya know? Do whatever you want for now while I make dinner, I’ll call ya when it’s done.” That being said, Osamu turned and began rummaging through the fridge, not sparing his brother another glance.

“Fine then,” Atsumu mumbled, the anticipation in his stomach only doubling, making him a jumbled mess. Hot and bothered by his imagination, he settled for a shower, preferring that over loafing around. Honestly, anything to take his mind off of his own nerves was enough for him. Why was he still so goddamn nervous when they had sex? It wasn’t like he was new to this, they’ve done it plenty times before, so why was this making him so fucking nervous?

Maybe it was the fact that they hadn’t done anything intimate in a while? Or perhaps he was simply touch starved and overstimulated by the thought of busting a proper load? Or maybe it was how dirty and overpowering Osamu could be in bed. All plausible reasonings.

Atsumu swallowed, already working with a half chub as he debated jerking off or not. In the end, he decided to forgo his arousal and wait for his twin, knowing that conniving son of a bitch had something planned, something special, he just knew it and the thought excited him.

A knock on the door startled him half to death. “Yer taking forever in there,” Osamu called from the corridor. “Hurry up, food is ready.”

“Alright!” He answered, shutting off the spray.

“Atsumu, let me in.”

“Why?”

“Just open up the door.”

“What ya want?” He growled, wrapping a towel around his waist, opening the door and allowing Osamu in his space. The spiker stood still, eyes dancing up and down his frame, not uttering a single word.

“Why are you staring, pervert,” he accused, hands on his hips.

“Let me see you.”

“Samu, I don't got time for this, I wanna eat,” he grumbled, though the pounding in his chest reached his reddening ears.

“I wanna see you,” Osamu insisted, unabashedly placing an index finger against the knot on Atsumu’s towel, doing nothing else but tease the fabric. “It’s been a while.”

“Ya freak,” Atsumu grounded out, teeth clenched as he undid the towel and opened up for his twin brother to see. “Nothing you haven’t seen before.”

Osamu didn’t say a word, instead, he drank up the sight with a sultry gaze, causing his twin to shiver in place.

“Why are you so interested in staring at my flaccid cock?” Atsumu questioned, impatient, fidgeting. “You’ve seen it plenty of times.”

“So?” Osamu dismissed hotly, nearing his brother and wrapping both arms around his waist, bringing him close, feeling every nook and cranny against himself, clothes going moist from the droplets that clung to Atsumu’s skin. “Yer so fucking beautiful, Tsumu.”

“Stop saying embarrassing shit.”

“Just take the damn compliment,” he demanded, snorting whilst emerging from the bathroom, heading towards his special hiding place and retrieving the present, stashing it in the living before Atsumu came down.

He couldn’t wait to give it to him.

“What ya make? I’m starving?” Speaking of the devil, the ace setter himself ambled down stairs, scratching his arms, exposing his belly.

“Yer favorite.”

Atsumu blinked. “Wow, you really went all out, huh?” He scratched his nape, unsure of how to handle such kind version of his brother.

“I told you, I’m living a life of kindness.”

“Sure, ya don’t fool me. ” He grinned, perching himself in his usual chair and digging in, marveling at the taste. “Fresh rice is always the best!”

“You noticed?”

“Sure did.”

Love hovered in Osamu’s gaze as he enjoyed the view, a sense of golden delight splitting and expanding throughout his body as Atsumu devoured his meal. To be honest, he felt happy anytime anyone enjoyed his meal as much as his brother did, the warm feeling in his chest felt right whenever someone took their first bite and marveled at the taste. It was an addicting sensation almost.

Languidly, Osamu wandered over to the bowl of fruit after his meal, picking up a soft peach and running his thumb across its fuzzy flesh, inhaling it’s enticing scent. Atsumu, waiting next to him almost impatiently, leaned against the counter with a curious eye. Gingerly, Osamu brought the peach flush against his brother's lips, watching closely as the blonde took a torturous bite, never breaking eye contact as he did so. Tongue darting out, Atsumu licked the supple juices dripping down his chin, breath hitching when Osamu leaned in to capture his lips.

Dancing close to a ritual, Osamu took a hefty bite of the peach, caging his brother against the counter and slurping it’s juices as he leaned into his space, kissing him, mouth ajar and pushing the soft moist flesh inside Atsumu’s parted mouth with an easy push of his tongue.

A sharp inhale fluttered against his lips as the counter dug into his back, Osamu’s crotch teasing his own as the spiker explored his mouth, a lingering taste of peach against his tongue. Hot and agitated by every touch, Atsumu seized Osamu’s hand and trailed it down his navel, panting lowly until he reached his hardening arousal, moaning as soon as the other palmed it.

“I want you to go in dry,” Atsumu demanded against his lips, pushing his clothed cock further into that insistent hand of his. Osamu stilled, peering at him through his lashes, parting with an embarrassing smack of their lips as the silver head ambled away, leaving a breathless Atsumu stunned.

“W-where are you going?”

“Come here,” Osamu beckoned, walking into the living room, anticipation building up in the most remote parts of his person; a rocket on the verge of launching.

“Why?”

“Just come here.”

“Yer not gonna make me flash you again, right?” He chuckled, magnetized by his brother.

“Hmm, maybe.”

“Weirdo.”

“Here,” he offered, conjuring a white shopping bag seemingly out of thin air. “It’s for you,” he added with ease.

The blonde peered at the bag with confusion, as though it were a ticking time bomb. “What is  _ it _ ?”

“Check inside and find out.”

“I’m scared.”

“Come on, it’s not a bomb, Tsumu.” He shoved it into his hands.

Swallowing the knot in his throat, Atsumu opened the present and took out the decorative paper, deadpanning when he pulled out a black pleated skirt and an equally black crop top. His glare found his brother moments later.

“You ain’t serious,” he groaned.

“Ya like it?”

“No! I ain’t a damn chick!”

“You said you’d wear it.”

“I didn’t agree to shit!”

“Come on, Tsumu,” he whispered, crossing his arms and leaning into his space, “you really gonna pass up the best fuck I’d give you over a little pride?”

“It's not just pride—it’s humiliating!”

“Fucking around with yer sibling is also humiliating, yet here we  _ are _ .”

“Do ya gotta be so crude!”

“Dirty talk turns you on, doesn’t it?”

“No, it doesn’t!”

“Sure it does.” Osamu shrugged, hovering behind Atsumu like a lion zeroing in on its prey. Cunningly, he slotted his head between his brother’s broad shoulder blades, wrapping both arms around his torso, nosing the blonde’s nape with his face. “I know dirty talk turns you on ‘cus I’ve seen yer cock swell up when I tell you how much I wanna fuck ya.”

“S-Samu…” Atsumu stiffened, breath hitching as his twin lowered his hands to his groin and palmed his pulsing cock again, making him arch.

“You like it when I’m vulgar, don’t you?” He continued, eyes menacing and dark as he inhaled his brother’s scent, a fresh shampoo smell. “When I say I want to lick the cum off your tip, or rub yer hole with my cock, or fuck you at school, or press you against the wall until you—“

“Okay, okay!” Atsumu whined, breath labored as his brother continued to whisper obscene phrases in his ear. The torture in his pants growing unbearably so. “Just fuck me already.”

Osamu released his hold, ambling towards the couch and plopping down. “I’d love to,” he began, motioning towards the white bag on the table as he did so.

Atsumu, at a loss for words, glared, fists shaking. “Fine! For fucks sake! Turn around first, goddammit!”

_ ‘Jackpot’ _ , he thought, wasting no time and turning around to give his brother the false sense of privacy he so desperately needed. All the while, his heart choroused with elation, a type of toxic arousal that made him swallow and chuckle when Atsumu released a string of curses after unzipping his clothes. He listened greedily, licking his lips as butterflies spread across his stomach.

“It's done,” the blonde grumbled with a note of asperity. “You can turn around now.”

So he did, and he made sure not to let it show just how affected he was by his brother’s appearance. Atsumu, ever the bashful one, glared at something to his right, one arm wrapped around his torso in a futile attempt to conceal his toned stomach, while the other hand tried desperately to pull down the high-cut skirt, which revealed an ample amount of skin and thighs that left no gap between them. It almost felt offensive how good Atsumu looked in that attire, even if the blonde wanted nothing more than to disappear right then and there.

The sight made his cock throb.

“Tsumu, lift up yer skirt.”

“What!” Atsumu gapped, clutching at the material. “N-no way!”

“I’ve already seen all of you.”

“I can’t! It’s too much!”

“Why not?”

“‘Cus I got—I got…”

“Just show me.”

Averting his gaze, Atsumu lifted up the skirt with slight trepidation, revealing his painful boner standing tall and firm, begging to be touched. Osamu drank in the visuals, feeling his own chub grow thicker at the sight, noting how the blonde wasn’t wearing his usual boxers, no, his cock was confined within a skin-tight material, hugging every curve and mound illicitly, extenuating his arousal even further.

Swallowing, the silver head loomed over him, going to his knees while pressing wet kisses to Atsumu’s exposed belly. “You look stunning.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

“You  _ won’t _ let anyone else see you in this except me, okay?”

“As if I’d wear this for anyone else.”

Pleased, Osamu mouthed his way down his soft stomach, dipping his head even lower, tracing the outline of his cock with his lips, making the other squirm.

“Do you want me to suck it?”

“Y-Yeah.”

Indulgently, Osamu ran his hands up Atsumu’s thighs, loving the power and curvature they possessed as he pulled down his underwear with his teeth. The skirt came over his head, obscuring Atsumu’s view but did little to deter Osamu, who took the head in his mouth, sucking gently. The blonde stiffened with a choke, digging his fingers in his twin’s scalp as he caught his breath.

“Just like that, Samu,” he groaned, eyes fluttering closed as Osamu sucked him off, biting his lips as the burning inside his groin intensified.

“You can make all the noise you want, you know, mom and dad ain’t here.”

“Oh, right.”

“I got something else for you.”

“It better not be a bra! You can forget it!”

Osamu chuckled, still on his knees while pressing kisses to Atsumu’s stomach. “No you dummy, here—“ and he pulled a black box from within his joggers, locking eyes with the blonde who lifted a brow as he handed it to him.

“What the fuck?” Atsumu whispered, accepting the gift with slight hesitation. “What is—“

“If you ask what it is before even opening it again, I’m gonna hit ya.”

Sticking out his tongue, Atsumu opened the box to reveal a single golden ring, fine and simple, nothing fancy, nothing extravagant, just plain and beautiful.

“You—“

“I’m in love with you, Tsumu.”

His world stopped. The room flipped over and suddenly, Atsumu felt weak and disoriented. Shaking, he found his brother’s gaze, who stood up and held his arms, a serious look on his face.

“I’ve been thinking about us a lot, about my feelings and whether this is only hormonal or if I really feel something else and…and I don’t just wanna have sex with you, Atsumu. I wanna  _ be _ with you, become one.”

“You want to get married?” Atsumu gapped, jaw slack, body trembling.

Osamu scoffed. “I wish we could,” he murmured, a note of annoyance in his tone. “But that won't be possible, not for us, at least. We can’t even act like a real couple even if we wanted to, but I wanted to give you something that represented our love. I’m not sure how long this will last, how long we’ll be able to stay with each other, but my love for you won’t change. Maybe in the future, when we’re both old and have our own families, we can think back on this and remember that we were always our first—our first times, our first loves.”

Atsumu felt his throat clench; he wasn’t the emotional type but thinking of not being able to spend the rest of his life with Osamu in the way they wanted, hurt. It drove a stake through his chest and he grabbed at it, trying to release the pain.

They knew from the get-go where this would lead them, to ruin. Eventually, they will be forced to pick a different partner, someone who could fill in the gaps they were forbidden to do themselves—go on dates, get married, have children, please their parents—normal couple things that they could never hope to reach themselves.

He slipped the ring on.

“Why are you crying, Tsumu?”

“I ain't crying!” He barked, turning his back and wiping his face. “It’s just allergies.”

“You’re such a bad liar,” Osamu said, groping his waist and nudging them against the tall mirror in the living room, forcing Atsumu to press his hands firmly against the cool glass . “Let’s enjoy this while we can, kay?” He whispered, palms riding up his brother's thighs and ruffling up the skirt as he groped his ass. “Ya look so erotic in that skirt, I can’t let this depressing atmosphere dampen our mood.”

“Ow—Samu, that hurts.”

“What? This?” He teased, painfully tightening the underwear around Atsumu’s cock as he pushed him further against the mirror. “I want you to look at us while I enter you.”

Atsumu moaned, staining the glass with his breath as Osamu lifted the skirt up further with one hand, the other riding up his shirt, rubbing his nipples.

“Don’t stop looking,” the setter groaned against his ear, lobe between his teeth.

The blonde forced his eyes open, gaze lowering towards Osamu, who stroked him while he pulled his own joggers and boxers down.

“Do you like what you see, Tsumu?”

He nodded, lips parted against the glass, hands pressed hotly on the mirror as his heart raced within his chest, threatening to jump out. With the help of his brother, he eased out of the shirt, leaving nothing but the skirt as the cool glass burned his nipples. He arched his back when Osmau slotted his cock between his thighs, pressing them together slightly.

“Put it in now,” Atsumu begged.

“Does this turn you on?”

“Yes!”

“Want me to put it in?”

“Y-yes!”

“Not yet,” he toyed, making the other groan in disapproval.

“Samu, put it in— _ please _ !”

“I wanna play with my little girlfriend first,” he leered, stroking his own cock. “Stick yer butt out and bring your thighs together, and don’t you dare look away.”

Atsumu obliged, watching entranced while Osamu pulled out his throbbing cock from between his thighs and nudged the rim of his hole with the tip, not fully penetrating him just yet, but dancing dangerously close. The blonde bit his lip, tongue darting out in pleasure.

“Rub it,” Osamu instructed, groaning when Atsumu moved against him, his cock snagging against his brother’s ass.

“S-Samu!” He whined, trembling with need.

“Fuck, Tsumu, that skirt is doing wonders for ya,” he praised, unable to control his need, syncing up with Atsumu and pushing past his tight sex, head squeezed by that familiar and incredible heat, sighing in union. “I can’t believe how horny you’re making me.”

“Stop teasing me!” Atsumu whined, turning back to glare at Osamu who pushed inside his narrow walls at a torturous pace.

“Oi.” And he pushed Atsumu’s head against the glass once more. “I said don’t look away.”

“Then start moving!”

“So impatient.”

He thrusted inside him with force, giving his twin exactly what he wanted, moaning loudly. Osmau stared at Atsumu’s face contorted with pleasure through the mirror; one hand against the glass to steady himself while the other gripped and kneaded his waist as he fucked inside.

God, the heat was almost unbearable.

“Touch yourself, Tsumu, I wanna see you come against the glass,” Osamu instructed, eyes heavy with lust as the noise of their sex penetrated their ears. Atsumu, lost to his libido, began fondling himself, mouth slightly ajar as he flicked his wrists up and down, intoxicated with lust, attacked by both sides.

“Samu!” He panted, repeating the name like a chant as he licked the cool surface of the mirror. “J-just like that…” he groaned once Osamu hit that spot inside him over and over again that made him see stars. “Fuck me right there!”

“S-shit—you’re still so tight, Tsumu, you’re squeezing the life out of my cock,” he groaned, licking his favorite spot on the back of his brother’s neck, making the other arch. “I’m gonna cum inside you, okay?”

Atsumu nodded, out of breath as he continued to stroke himself and feel Osmau shove him against the mirror with every thrust. He tried to keep his eyes open, but they’d momentarily shut whenever a heavy wave of ecstasy hit his senses.

“Come on,” Osamu goaded, supporting them as he thrusted inside his brother without remorse, feeling the blonde clench and tense against him, stimulating his oversensitive cock, making his head swell. “Whine. Cry. Let me hear your voice.”

“C-close!” Atsumu moaned, loving the way his brother kneaded his waist as he fucked into him, never missing a beat as his climax neared.

“I’m gonna fill you up, Tsumu,” he moaned heavily, panting surely as if it were his last day on earth. Teeth bared, fist trembling against the mirror, he rocked into Atsumu’s sex until he clenched loudly, releasing his seed inside his brother, who milked him so perfectly. They came in union, Atsumu staining the mirror with his own cum as they both shook with pleasure, Osamu leaning his head against his brother’s shoulder as he orgasmed.

Slumping against the mirror after a second or two, they catch their breath, sweetly nullified by the after effects of passionate sex.

“I wish you could bear my children, Tsumu.”

Atsumu’s eyes shot open, glancing back at his brother in disbelief as he pulled out with a wince, feeling the coolness of the room draft against his sensitive hole.

“Children?”

“Yeah, I wish I could see you pregnant with my children.” He fixed up Atsumu’s skirt, kissing his hair. “I’m not sure if it’s the manly instinct inside me that wants children but I’d love to see yer bloated belly.”

“That’s embarrassing and impossible.”

“Yeah, but what do you think? Do you wanna have my kids?”

“They’d come out all messed up.”

“I know, I know, but if all those factors weren’t an issue and you could, would you?”

Atsumu pondered this, looking down at his belly and the cum splattered against the mirror, pressing his face against the cool glass to ease his blushing cheeks. What should he say?

“Hghhhnmmgh.”

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes, I want to have yer children!”

Osamu blinked, surprised that he got Atsumu to admit something like that. He smiled, hugging him close at the thought of their children running around. God, if only they had been born under different circumstances. “They’d have yer face.”

“We have the same face!”

“You think they’d be twins?”

“Probably, annoying little shits.”

Osamu leaned into him again, kissing his neck. “Tsumu, I wanna fuck you again.”

“We gotta wait at least thirty minutes, sheesh, I’m tired.”

“Let’s watch a movie in our room then.”

It felt right taking Atsumu by the hand and leading him upstairs, spooning his brother close to his chest as soon as they settled on his bed. Osamu still marveled at the degree of submissiveness his brother showed during and post sex, anywhere else his twin was a force to be reckoned with, a commanding asshole who took it too far sometimes, but sex mellowed him out quite nicely.

“How the hell do girls sit in these?” Atsumu groaned, trying to pull down the skirt that lifted up every time he laid down or moved.

“Leave it like that,” Osamu answered. “I like staring at yer legs and ass.”

“Pervert.”

As promised, thirty minutes into the movie, Osamu began to leave hickies against Atsumu’s neck, who angled his head to better accommodate his brother. Those curious hands found their way onto his skirt and began jerking his flaccid cock, which laid bare and without underwear—what was the point?

“You ready for another round, Tsumu?”

“Already?”

“I’m ready to go.”

“Yer crazy.”

“Can I cum on your face?”

Atsumu choked, fruitlessly pulling down the hem of his skirt. “Isn’t it my turn to decide what we do? You fucked me in this stupid skirt like we promised.”

“Aw, come on,” Osamu begged, snuggling into his brother’s shoulders. “Let me do all the dirty little things to ya tonight? Then, tomorrow you can have me all day.”

The blonde deadpanned, feeling his brother nip at his neck and pull up his shirt to rub his nipples. “Why am I such a little pussy when it comes to you?” He sighed, spreading his legs wider as Osamu reached for his balls.

“‘Cus you love it.”

Ignoring the cockiness, Atsumu sat up, leaning against the wall as Osamu kneeled in front of him, one hand on the wall, the other holding his throbbing cock in front of him, bare and half hard.

“Suck me off, and when I’m close I’ll tell ya.”

Atsumu blinked, dazed, giving his brother’s erection a couple of strokes with his hand before taking the head in his mouth, feeling him stiffen against him and weave his fingers through his hair.

“S-shit...that’s good, just like that.”

He loved hearing Osamu shower him with praise, loved making him feel good, especially with his mouth. At first, sucking his cock was a challenge, something unnatural for his throat, whom punished him afterwards. It didn’t help that his brother was unnaturally large in that department, which added to the challenge. Yet, Atsumu had done it so much now, eager to please him, that he knew exactly the angle as well as the perfect pace to go in that allowed gratification for them both.

“Tsumu, you look so fucking hot sucking my dick,” Osamu began, ever the talkitive one during sex. “I just might—“

_ Ring! Ring! _

They freeze in union, turning towards Osamu’s cellphone as it rang on their night stand, the caller ID flashing— _ Mom _ . To Atsumu’s horror, Osamu reached out for the device, answering it without missing a beat, still forcing Atsumu to hold him in his mouth.

“Hello?” He answers, steady as could be, holding his brother in place when he felt him trying to move away. ‘Don’t stop,’ he mouthed down at him, making the blonde clench in horror and arousal. He continued his work, albeit quietly.

“Osamu, honey?” Their mother said from the other side. “How are you two? I’m just calling to see how you are and let you know everything is going smoothly on our side.”

“Everything’s good, mom,” he replied, stroking Atsumu’s hair as he pushed himself deeper inside. “Glad you guys are alright.”

“How’s Atsumu?”

Osamu peered down at his beautiful twin brother who was trying his hardest not to make a sound.

“He’s got his mouth full.”

Atsumu blenched.

“That boy!” Their mom chuckled. “Always eating! Well, let him know we’re okay and to not worry! Don’t forget to put the trash out, okay? Love you.”

“Love you too, mom. Bye.”

“Bye, sweetheart.”

_ Click. _

“Fuck, that was close.”

“You must be out of your  _ goddamn _ mind, Samu!” Atsumu barked, clutching his brother’s thighs as he popped off, digging his nails for emphasis.

Osamu chuckled, hand against his face. “It was a little dangerous, yeah.”

“No shit.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he concluded, raising his brother’s chin between his index finger and thumb, rubbing his swollen lips. “I’m still hard as a rock.”

The blonde yanked himself out of his hold, glaring up at him defiantly. “Ya better not thrust into my mouth like last time or I swear to god I’ll bite ya.”

“I promise I won’t!” He mended apologetically. “That time was an accident.”

“Accident’ my ass,” he grumbled, holding Osamu’s cock up to his lips, allowing the head to glide across skin before entering his mouth. Osamu shook with pleasure, punching the wall in excitement.

“Fuck, yer so goddamn good at this, Tsumu,” he groaned, eyes shut tight. “What am I gonna do when I don’t have ya anymore?” He continued, captivated by the way his brother’s head bobbed up and down on his length. “I think I’m still gonna fuck ya even when I’m married to someone else.”

Atsumu gave him a look, one that screamed— _ you freak _ . But Osamu didn’t care, it only fueled the fire inside his stomach and balls, muscles clenching as he flung himself into immorality. It was sick. Disgusting. But the thought made him rock hard.

“I-I’m close,” he panted, a hint of aggression in his voice. “Not yet, just a little more—ah!”

Atsumu kept his pace, glancing up at his brother every so often to check on just how ‘close’ he was.

“ _ There _ —Tsumu,” Osamu choked, pulling out of his brother’s throat. “Open yer mouth.”

He did, held out his tongue as his twin stroked the last bit of himself and spilled all over his face and mouth, groaning with a high moan stuck to his throat. Atsumu let him spill every last drop, swallowing his cum as if it were icing on a cake. He reached over and grabbed Osamu’s swollen dick, licking the residue off his tip in lazy laps.

“Damn.” Osamu gazed down at him, tugging his blond hair. “You like the taste?” He asked, not really a question, more of a tease as he panted his lungs out.

“Love it.” He licked his fingers, never breaking eye contact as Osamu slumped against the bed.

“I’m fucking beat.”

“Let’s take a shower together and finish the movie, yeah?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?  
> How are you liking the story so far?


	6. Chapter 6

“Tsumu, wake up”.

“Hmmmn…”

“I said wake up, ya big loaf.”

“Ten more minutes, mom.”

“Oi, I ain’t yer mom.”

Osmau snorted, nudging his log-of-a brother for the fourth time that morning—as usual, Atsumu is the last one to wake, a bonafide sloth, even had drool running down his mouth. In stark contrast, Osamu is brimming with life and vitality in the morning, waking up to start his routine—take a shower, brush his teeth, hell, he even made breakfast. Silently, he hoped the pleasant aroma wafting from the food was enough to rouse his sleeping brother, but alas, the ace setter remained in his catatonic state, sprawled on the bed in only his boxers, feet tangled with the sheets.

Time for plan B—mess with his nipples.

“Leave me alone!” Atsumu drawled, swatting the air like one would a fly. “I wanna sleep in,” he grumbled, twisting defiantly.

“It’s already half past eleven, you’ve slept plenty.”

The blonde whined, rubbing an eye with a sluggish fist, blinking Osamu into focus. “Is it really that late?”

“Yup.” The silver head nodded, ruffling wayward strands of blonde hair atop Atsumu's head. “Now wake up, sleeping beauty, I made breakfast.”

“You’re too kind to me.” He smiled wickedly, stretching like a cat.

“Yeah yeah,” the spiker mocked, silently praising the taunt muscle on his brother’s body. “Go shower and brush yer teeth first, yer nasty.”

“I wonder whose fault that is? You kept me up all night,” Atsumu countered, nudging his twin, trying to pinch his nipple.

“All mine, now go, you look like shit.”

Atsumu flipped him off.

Idly, after breakfast, Osamu roamed into the living room without much thought, lazily perching himself on the couch while sifting through his phone. An atmosphere of extraordinary serenity wrapped itself around him, lulling him as he unwound and detangled. It was nice. Usually, while at home, he spent most of his time studying, playing video games or fucking around with Atsumu, leaving little time to laze around the house so openly. It was a welcomed change in scenery, however minuscule the change was.

Everything was quiet and tranquil—just how he liked it, until a creak by the stairs brought his focus elsewhere. Attentive eyes landed on his twin brother, the sight making him swallow—there Atsumu was, clad in nothing but the skirt he had bought him.

Toes curling, he’s instantly hard.

“Damn, you’ve turned into such a temptress,” he praised, patting his lap. “Come here.”

Atsumu closed the gap, feeling out of his skin but entangled in a strong desire to please his brother, even at his own expense.

When had he become like this?

Enthralled, he straddled Osamu’s lap, wrapping both arms around his neck, tickling the ends of his silver hairs as the other groped his thighs, captivated. He loved the warmth between them, sighing as the familiar heat enveloped their groins.

“Let’s have sex,” Osamu mouthed against his lips, rolling his pelvis against his brother’s ass, who gaped into his mouth with pleasure. The blonde reached down to rub his brother’s cock through his sweatpants, feeling him groan against his neck, growing in size.

“Is this what you wanna do?” The spiker inquiered, referring to the promise they had made last night. He clutched at Atsumu’s hand, the one with the ring on his finger, and interlocked their digits tenderly, searching his face.

“No,” the blonde whispered, eyes half lidded, concentrating on his work; he loved making his twin stand up so tall. “It’s something else.”

“Awfully vague.” Osamu peered at him, sliding his arms up his brother’s thighs, up past his skirt. “Tell me what you want then.” And he rolled his hips again, sensually, as to provoke—feeling every edge, every mound—smearing lust and making Atsumu swallow audibly.

“I’ll tell you tonight,” he mouthed against warm lips, feeling his twin rub his cock through his underwear. “Right now I want to please you.”

“Damn, you even put the skirt back on for me. You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

“Let me take pictures of you in it.”

“Hell  _ no _ !”

“Only the bottom half! Please? I swear I won’t show yer face,” he assured, groping his ass, a type of poorly-executed coercion as he skidded his fingers across his underwear, making the blonde squirm. 

“Sometimes I’m in class or the bathroom,” Osamu continued, breathlessly. “And I think of you to get off but my imagination can only do so much,” he explained, sucking on a pink nipple languidly, the slow agitation bringing the blonde closer to the edge. “I need the visuals, please?”

Atsumu, in mental disarray, grumbled into a moan, arching his back, erection pressing hotly against his brother’s warm stomach. He felt Osamu’s own hardness press into his ass as his twin continued to grope and explore charted territory. The plethora of pleasure made it almost impossible to say no. “Only the bottom half then,” he relented through clenched teeth.

What was he doing?

“Thanks, baby,” Osamu cooed, kissing his chest affectionately. “Alright, stay on my lap and lift up your skirt,” he instructed, reaching for his phone as Atsumu—with slight hesitation—did as he was told.

_ Snap! _

“Jack yourself off for a bit, I wanna get the perfect picture.”

“Ya better not take a video, you fuck.”

“I ain’t taking a video, now hurry up.”

So he did, using one hand to lift the curtain of his skirt, while the other wrapped around his cock, panting slightly as he did so. This was borderline pornography, and the thought seared Atsumu with both shame and arousal; leave it to Osamu to bring out the freakiest part of him.

_ Snap! _

_ Snap! _

The silver head slipped out from underneath him, leading him by the hand to their bedroom at an almost desperate pace.

“Take off the skirt and lay on the bed—oh, you’re underwear too,” he announced once they were inside, locking the door out of habit.

“How many goddamn pictures are you gonna take!” Atsumu barked, indignant, though he figured he got himself into this mess.

“As many as I can, now lay down on your back and spread your legs open, I want a really lewd shot.”

“Goddammit, Samu, you really are a pervert.”

“You make me this way,” he shot back, on his knees on top of the bed, the perfect angle to take top shots of Atsumu’s body. “Move your leg just a little to the side— _ there _ .”

_ Snap! _

“Samu—ah!” Atsumu choked on a moan when his brother inserted a finger inside his hole, taking pictures as fast he could because he knew this position was uncomfortable.

“Hold that position just a bit longer—fuck I’m getting hard.”

“T-this is uncomfortable.”

“I know, sorry, just a couple more pictures, I have a few more ideas.”

A few more?

“You've been thinking about this, haven’t you?” The blonde accused, feeling Osamu’s cock against his own, watching in both horror and fascination as his twin pressed them flat against his stomach. He clutched at the bed sheets, licking his lips, toes curling as Osamu kept him at bay.

“Maybe.” He smirked, guilty as charged. “Look,” he noted with a hint of amusement. “You’ve already got precum sliding down your slit. Excited?” Using his thumb in the most teasing of ways, the silver head smeared the sticky substance over the blonde’s stomach, staring at the flower of his arousal, making his twin writhe in place.

“It’s too m-much, Samu,” Atsumu whined, dick twitching with need as his twin continued to tease him with his thumb. “Ah—lick it off for me.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He sneered, yet, dipped his head despite himself, grazing the pink bud with his tongue, drinking in Atsumu’s moans as he slid it down his pulsing stem. “Hold still,” he demanded with a squeeze of his hand, casting a spell on the other who froze in place. “You wouldn't want semen spilling all over the bed, would you? We just washed the sheets, remember?”

“I can’t help it!”

“Hmm.” Osamu lapped at the cum, running his tongue across his stomach, salt overpowering his taste buds. “I love how goddamn responsive you are, Tsumu.”

“I can’t believe I’m even letting you do this to me.” The blonde tugged at silver hair in retaliation, though, he did little to get away, secretly enjoying the copious amounts of arousal he was receiving.

“Your body is just  _ too _ perfect, seriously—“ Osamu praised, stroking his own cock to hardness, pressing the tip inside his brother’s hole. “Your body is better than most girls I’ve seen.”

_ Snap _ !

“H-how is that even possible?” Atsumu mumbled, out of breath as Osamu flipped him on his side, sticking his moist cock inside him again.

“Ah—Samu!” He panted, wanting to move against him but held still by the other.

“Ah—fuck,” Osamu groaned, spreading his twin’s ass to get a good picture of himself entering him. “That’s perfect.”

“I’m cold,” Atsumu whined, not really cold but wanting to get fucked already; for the most part, Osmau was sitting still—no friction, no grinding, no fucking, just still and annoying.

“Shut up, I know yer lying.”

“I want you already.”

“My dick is literally  _ inside _ you.”

“Yeah, but you’re not moving!”

“Hold yer horses, I’m almost done.” And he turned Atsumu on his back again, eyes locked. “One last picture.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Okay, what is it?”

“My cum all over your face.”

Atsumu glared. “I should’ve  _ known _ ,” he growled. “Absolutely not!”

“You know me too well,” his twin grinned, laying the phone beside them as he hovered over Atsumu's indignant face, bringing his swollen cock to his lips. “Suck me dry, Tsumu, please?”

“You said  _ no _ top half pictures.” He crossed his arms, refusing to even look at  _ it _ .

“I know but I just remembered how sexy you looked last night with my cum all over yer face and lips, and I just really need a picture of that.”

“Ugh, you horny bastard….the things I do for you.”

“You’re the best.”

He wrapped his mouth around his brother’s head, hands against his thighs, loving the way Osamu melted above him. Hearing his moans and groans as he sucked him dry brought forth a delicious throng of strange sensations in the pits of his chest—butterflies. The delight in his brother’s face only added to his ego, and Atsumu wished he could take a picture instead of the other way around.

“Ah—go a little deeper,” Osamu instructed with care, reaching for his phone, stroking his brother’s scalp as his lips reached his pubic hairs. “I’m just gonna take a picture of your mouth.”

_ Snap! _

“Lick the tip—yeah, like that. F-fuck I’m close, Tsumu, open your mouth like last time.”

Atsumu does as he’s told, watching his brother stroke the final pulses out of his dick with expectancy, coming with a throaty moan seconds later. He held still, closing a lid as Osmau squirted all over his face, forcing himself not to flinch.

“Jesus—that’s hot, just like that, perfect.”

_ Snap! _

Exhausted and elated, the spiker collapsed against his brother, chest heaving, a sense of golden delight in his heart. Bliss. Pure bliss.

Atsumu on the other hand? Not so happy.

“You didn’t even fuck me,” he grumbled, getting up.

“Baby! Let’s just stay here!” Osmau urged, wrapping a lazy arm around his brother’s waist, wrestling him back onto the bed.

“Easy for you to say, you’ve already busted yer load. I’m still working with a painful erection here, you fuck!”

“How could I possibly neglect you?” The latter cooed, lowering himself to Atsumu’s swollen cock. “I’ll take good care of you, don’t worry,” he promised, earning him a small huff of air.

The blonde scrunched up a tuft of gray hair in his fist, sitting criss cross on the bed as his brother laid between his legs. “You better,” he grumbled, eyes fluttering closed as Osamu swirled his tongue around his tip. “Right there—“

_ Ring! Ring! _

They turn towards Atsumu’s phone.

“Mom again?”

“Her timing is impeccable.”

“Oh wait, it’s Aran-san,” Atsumu noted, jumping off the bed, leaving Osamu laying there in slight annoyance—he knew where this was going.

“Oh, no way! Right now?” Atsumu beamed as he answered the call, and by the sparkle in his eyes, Osamu knew exactly what Aran had suggested.

“Sure! We’ll go! Nah, we weren’t doing anything important—“

Rude?

“Yeah, Osamu’s coming too. Sure, we’ll meet’cha there. Alright, thanks, see ya!”

“Do we have to go?” The spiker griped, head plastered against his pillow.

“Yes!! It’s volleyball time!” The blonde pumped his fists, erection all but forgotten.

“We play volleyball every freakin’ day, why can’t we just stay in?”

“Stay here if ya want then, I’m going!”

Osmau groaned; his brother had such a hard on for volleyball, it was ridiculous, speaking of hard on.

“What about yer little problem?” He pointed at the dent in Atsumu’s volleyball shorts, already sorting through his messy drawers for a shirt. Surely he would want to take care of that before leaving, right?

“I’ll sweat it out,” came his brother’s simple reply, bolting for the door. “You coming or not?”

“Guess I have no choice.”   
  


—

They’re young and alive—it’s the weekend and despite being on a short-term break pre nationals training, the Inarizaki volleyball team de-stress by playing, well, more volleyball.

Sounded counterintuitive, but to Atsumu, it was everything but.

That being said, it came to no surprise that even on their “off” days, the team found themselves in the middle of a local park, a handful of classmates beside them, setting up an amateur volleyball net for them to play.

“Heard your parents are out of town,” Rintaro pointed out, helping Atsumu with his side of the net. “Sounds fun.”

“It’s been awesome,” he replied easily, leaving the smaller details out, like the fact that he’s been fucking his brother for the better part of it.

“Bet it is.”

“Tsumu,” Osamu called out, giving his brother a knowing look before nudging his side and motioning to his right. Following his gaze, Atsumu found Machi at the end of it, walking over to the field with a group of her friends.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, the blonde blinked, recalling the tenebrous grounds they left off on.

Awkwardly, their eyes met glancingly—for a split second she looked almost crestfallen and uncertain, until she recovered quickly and worked up the nerve to march over to him. Panicking, Atsumu silently pleaded with Osamu and his teammates to stay by his side, yet the traitorous bastards split off into different directions one by one, even his own blood, leaving him dead in the water. Fucking fantastic.

“Hey,” she began, tucking a pesky strand behind her ear once she reached him.

“Hey,” he offered, not sure how to clear the tense atmosphere—everyone's eyes were on them, especially Osamu’s.

“I just wanted to apologize for the things I said that night we got into a fight, and how I reacted,” she began, nudging her foot on the ground, looking elsewhere, anywhere but his eyes. “I shouldn’t have gotten so mad at you.”

“Machi—“ he felt like a complete douchebag for not being the bigger person and apologizing first. “I’m sorry too,” he apologized, scratching the back of his neck, feeling everyone boring holes into him. “Guess we both went a little overboard.”

“Yeah,” she snorted, eyes bright and hopeful, almost expecting something more—maybe she wanted him to make up with her? Ask her out again? He had no intentions of doing that now. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around, maybe we’ll even play on the same team?” She suggested, looking at the volleyball net.

“Yeah, of course.”

_ Alright, that’s over _ , Atsumu thought, gingerly touching his chest once she passed him, feeling his soul leave his body with each passing second. Closure was a natural part of every relationship, yet, he’d be remiss to say he was good at it, in fact, confrontation with girls always ended in them crying. Machi hadn’t shed a single tear, which he took as a win in his book...right? He did good, right?

A soothing and quieting touch landed on his shoulder—Osamu. They nod in union.

“Alright let’s play!” A guy from their class shouted once the tension had dissipated.

Now, when it came to vanilla games like these, Atsumu could reign back most of his competitive side, just a tad, enough to control his palpable aggression, especially with girls on his team. Not because he thought them inferior, but because he knew how ruthless he could be, even towards his own teammates. Despite his infamous play style and aggressive streak, he could dial down the pettiness in a friendly game such as this—didn’t mean it was easy.

“Come on, Miya-kun,” one of the guys goaded from the other side of a cheap net. “Show us that ace serve of yours.”

Now, if Atsumu wanted, he could shatter that flimsy net with a single serve, maybe even shatter the guy's arm—he wanted to, just to prove a point—but he knew better than to let himself be tempted.

Instead, he smirked like the sly fox he was, and said, “Nah, man, might break yer lil arms.”

The girls in his team giggled, clearly finding his cockiness a tad bit attractive—chicks digged that kind of thing, right?

“How much you wanna bet?” The guy countered, edging Atsumu on, knowing exactly which buttons to push, and push he did, until the blonde was ready to oblige when a solid hand landed on his shoulder again, stopping him.

“ _ Don’t _ ,” Osamu warned, knowing exactly how riled up his twin brother could get, who was dancing dangerously close to actually breaking the guy's arm, or dislocating it at the very least. Atsumu, unperturbed on the surface, lickded his lips, corners of his mouth turning upwards a fraction, sneering. 

Fired up by the challenge, he grabbed a fist full of his shirt, knowing exactly what he was doing as he wiped the sweat from his neck, drawing the girl’s attention as they got a good scope of his abs. It was a subtle way of showing off without going all out— _ look how much stronger I am compared to you _ . Cockiness without being rude, a little douchie, but not rude. It did enough to stroke his inflating ego, largely contributed by female classmates who blushed at the sight, and in turn, got him pumped and ready to go. He was an attention whore at heart, after all.

“Why don’t you just strip naked while yer at it,” Osamu grumbled, focused on the other end of the “court”.

“Maybe I will,” he agreed, slinging an arm over his brother’s shoulder, noticing a female classmate staring at them. Perhaps she wanted a show? Mischievously, he leaned into his brother’s space, giving him a small peck on the neck, triumph ricocheting in his chest once she gaped.

“Tch,” Osamu scoffed, arms crossed. 

“Wait till we get home,” he added in a whisper.

“Osamu-kun we wanna see your awesome spikes too!” One girl cheered, instantly souring Atsumu’s mood.

Said twin brother, ever the humble one, turned, dawning a smile and a promise to do his best. Like shit, Osamu didn’t even need to try—he could spike a ball so beautifully clean across this net and into the enemies territory, it would be mere child's play compared to the tanks they face off in nationals.

Biting back a snarky remark, the blonde tried his hardest to stay civil, focusing on building up his makeshift team instead of gloating. He made sure to give them easy setups, despite this being most of their first times playing volleyball. Conversely, he didn’t go easy on the other team, especially with Aran, Rintaro and Kita on the opposite end.

“I finally did it!” One of the girls beamed once she hit one of Atsumu’s sets, getting the ball over the net with sparkles in her eyes. “Thank you, Atsumu-kun!”

“That was all you,” he complimented smoothly, not missing the way Osamu shot him a look of suspicion.

“Alright,” Rintaro announced once that game was over—a win for the twins—wiping the sweat off his forehead, a type of challenge jumping into his potent eyes. “Time for aggressive play.”

“You serious?” Atsumu asked, silently relieved, wanting to scratch that itch to let loose.

“I’ll stay out of this one,” Kita pipped in, ambling towards the shade.

“Me too,” a girl agreed.

“You want a  _ real _ game?” One of their classmates gawked, ball between his hands. “We’ll get pummeled by the twins!”

“We got your backs,” Aran assured. “We can handle the twins.”

“Yup, let's go.” Rintaro nodded, chugging his water. “Let’s do teams of four since we don’t want an imbalance in skill. We get two normal players and two skilled players on each team.”

“Ah, geez,” one of the guys groaned. “Suna-kun is calling us normies.”

The raven blinked, unfazed. “I call it how I see it.”

“I call dibs on Samu.” Atsumu declared, dabbing a thumb over his shoulder, knowing his twin had his back.

“Who said I wanna be on yer team again?” The spiker teased, making the rest laugh.

“Give me a break, will ya?” The blonde groaned. “And ya better play serious too, none of that vanilla bullshit.”

“We’re not even in a real court though.”

“And? Rintaro said it was a real game.”

“What a pain.”

“Oh! Will we finally get to see the Miya twin’s legendary sets and serves!” One of the girls cheered, sipping on a bottle of water.

“For sure!” Atsumu boasted, drunk with praise, spinning the ball on the roof of his finger. “Just dont blink or you’ll miss it,” he finished with a wink, making his brother facepalm.

“That was lame as fuck,” Osamu groaned.

“Shut yer trap and let's play!”

In the end, Atsumu, Osamu and two other classmates formed a team, while Rintaro and Aran did the same on the opposite side of the court. Conveniently, the blonde took Rintaro’s words as a green light to let loose, therefore, he didn’t plan on holding back any punches, might even give their friends a little show. Fun-time Atsumu was over, replaced by a more competitive version of himself who added more  _ umph _ to his serves, a dash more accuracy to his sets, and could break teeth without even batting an eye.

With that in mind...

“I’ll serve first,” he announced, getting in position, keen on the way all eyes magnetized towards him— _ this _ , he thought, giving a broad, complacent breath from his nose.  _ This _ was the moment he felt the most empowered; his presence demanding attention while his tongue darted out in hunger.

“You better not send it to the moon, Miya!” One of the guys yelled from the shade.

_ ‘Oh, I intend to, _ ’ Atsumu thought, smirking, reigning every ounce of concentration in his system, filing his determination as sharp as a knife. He stepped forward, a rush of air slipping through his fingers like water, his chest tightening, heart pounding in that familiar thud only volleyball could excite him. He crushed the ball with a reassuring— _ snap _ —across the net, into the opponent's court, an unstoppable force.

“Woahhhhh!” Their friends exclaimed at once, adding to his excitement.

“Oh, god,” Osamu groaned, knowing this would poke his brother’s wilder side.

“I knew it,” Aran accused, hands on his hips. “I knew you couldn’t hold back.”

“Hold back? What for?” Atsumu snorted, loving the way he affected his classmates.

“That was amazing, Atsumu-kun!” A girl cheered.

“So much power!”

“Damn, I might actually break my arms trying to stop one of those.”

Drunk off praise, the blonde flew into cloud nine, ready to ascend into heaven. “If ya don’t block my next serves, this game will be over way too quick,” he lamented, getting a kick out of their sorrows. “And it’ll be a  _ real _ shame.”

“Then I’ll make sure to block you next time,” Rintaro promised, getting in his signature pose, hands close to his face, gaze intense as it zeroed in on his prey.

“Wanna see you try,” Atsumu shot back, blood alight with the challenge as he stepped forward again, slamming his hand down on the ball. As promised, Rintaro countered the serve with ease, knowing the blonde’s plays all too well, though he had to admit it took most of his skill to counter. After a firm set by one of their classmates, Aran moved in for a powerhouse spike, only to be blocked by Osamu, who zipped across the net and countered with a one touch, allowing his twin to set up the perfect spike for him.

“Nice kill!” Atsumu cheered, patting his brother's butt in encouragement while the silver head looked bored beyond belief, though deep inside, he felt the subtle surge of excitement prickle his skin. It was akin to art, the way his heavy spikes coupled with Atsumu’s perfect sets and contagious attitude, got him riled up, even at a surface level.

“At this rate, you guys will be a two-man team,” one of their teammates chuckled, impressed by the twin’s dominating skills.

“Sorry, I can let you spike next time,” Osamu offered, making Atsumu frown in annoyance, knowing damn well his twin didn’t want to lose as much as he did, but he was the nicer one of the two for a reason.

“Nah, man, go ahead,” their friend insisted, hand behind his head, “Aran-san scares me anyway.”

“Me?” Aran pointed at himself, blinking.

“Yeah! You’re just so damn tall and strong!” Their friend continued, offering a nervous laugh. “I doubt I’d be able to stop you even if I tried.”

“Stop being such a wuss!” Atsumu barked, at his boiling point. “So what if ya can’t block a spike, least you tried!”  _ Better than just standing there like some scrub _ , he thought with a frown.

“Guess you’re right…”

“Just put yer hands up like this,” Osamu offered, motioning with his hands, grabbing the guy’s arms and guiding him into a position better suited for blocking. “Keep your back straight, knees slightly bent.” He grazed the guy’s back with his palm, electrifying him into a straight posture, stopping around his middle back. “Concentrate on the center of the ball and don’t hesitate, just go for it. I’ll have yer back.”

Atsumu clicked his tongue, heat in his bowls—not liking the sight one bit, opting for looking away instead.

“Jealous?” Osamu whispered once he was back in his spot next to his brother, smirking.

“As if,  _ jerk _ .”

“Sure.”

The third time Atsumu served, he smacked the ball with such ferocity, he sent it flying past the net and into the dense forest surrounding the park, making everyone groan in union.

“Nice going, doofus,” Osamu sighed, wiping the sweat off his fringe.

“Fuck off! It was bad luck!”

“More like bad serve,” Rintaro chipped in.

“What a bad serve indeed.” Kita parroted, smiling from his spot in the shade, watermelon slice between his fingertips.

“Go get it, Atsumu-kun!” Aran called out, dabbing a thumb behind him. “Yer the reason it’s all the way over there in the first place.”

“For fucks sake!” Atsumu groaned.

“I’ll go too,” Osamu offered. “This idiot might get lost.”

“Oi, ya wanna fight!”

“Let’s just go.”

Atsumu grumbled, trudging towards the forest in search of the ball, trees obscuring their bodies as he bent over to look for it in the bushes—where the hell did that damn ball go? Jarringly, he felt hands squeeze his hips, bringing his ass flat against a firm surface and a slight bulge.

“We’re not doing it here, Samu,” he began, peering back at his brother, who tried looking as innocent as possible.

“Why not? We can do a quicky.”

“Because our friends are right over— _ there _ !”

“So? They’re not paying attention anyway, and I can be quick.”

“No, now fuck off and help me find da ball.”

“Fine, I was just kidding anyway.”

“Sure ya were.”

There was no doubt in Atsumu's mind that, given the chance, Osamu would have gladly taken the opportunity with open arms. His twin might be the nicer one of the two, but he was definitely the more shameless one, while Atsumu was more discreet. He figured his brother got off on the possibility of being caught—which explained his horrifying “close call” tendencies, but it terrified Atsumu to no end.

“Fuck, where did it go?”

“Found it,” Osamu announced, bending over to grab the ball, clutching it between his hands.

“Alright, gimmy.” Atsumu offered his palm, making grabby motions with his fingers.

The spiker gave him a look full of stubbornness, not budging.

“Give me the ball, Samu!”

Osamu shook his head. “Give me a kiss and I will.”

“No way!”

“Alright, I ain’t giving it to ya then.”

“Stop fucking around!”

“I ain’t fucking around, I’m serious.”

Atsumu glared, suspicious. “Yer not gonna do anything else, right?”

“Nah, I promise, I just want a quick smooch.”

Peering back at their group of friends, making sure none of them were looking or coming this way, Atsumu sighed, closing the gap between them, feet wedged between each other as he leaned in for a chaste kiss.

“Alright now—“

“Wait, that was way too quick.”

“You said a quick one!”

“I wanna feel a little tongue, come on.”

“Samu—I swear to God—“

Osamu pressed their lips together, unhinged, forcing the blonde against a tree, opening his mouth and slipping in his tongue. Atsumu squirmed against him, kneeing Osamu’s groin lightly.

“Really wanna fuck you right now, Tsumu,” Osamu groaned, low and needy, making heat pool inside Atsumu’s stomach, who was trying is hardest not to let the blood flow south, least he want an awkward boner in front of their friends.

“We can’t… not here.”

“Let’s go home then.”

“We’ve done nothing but mess around this whole time! I wanna keep playing.”

“Ah, damn,” his counterpart sighed, running a hand through his fringe. “Fine, lets go.”

“Wait, Samu—“

“Hm?”

Atsumu slipped his hand below his brother’s waist band, rubbing his cock in quick motions. “Let’s do this quick,” he breathed, pressing his forehead against Osamu’s, who smiled and kissed him.

“Shit—rub the head too,” he groaned against warm lips, kneading those damn hips he loved so much. “Squeeze it a little like that— _ ah _ .”

Atsumu made sure to angle his brother's cock away from them as he came, watching him clench in suppressed pleasure. “Now you’re all dirty.”

“Lick it clean for me?”

“You fucker.”

Yet, Atsumu got on his knees, closing his eyes as he licked Osamu’s tip clean, while the spiker caressed his scalp.

“You’re the best.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s just go.”

They return moments later, as if nothing had happened, apologizing for the delay with the excuse of Atsumu’s vicious server sending it far out. No one batted an eyelash, no one except for Kita, who eyed the twins with discretion upon their return—there was something off about them, not just right now but way before. He couldn’t put a finger on it, or even when he sensed it had happened, this shift. All he knew was that there was something different about them, something odd in the way they moved and hung around each other, which, typically wasn’t an odd thing, but something had been adulterated and he didn’t know whether to worry about it or not.

Kita chose to ignore it for now.

By the end of their last game, the sun had already set in a fury of pinks and purples in the distance, caressing the air with a night song, the moon claiming the night sky in its place.

Bidding their friends goodbye, Atsumu and Osamu begin their tred back home on foot, half of it in comfortable silence, the other half in a heated squabble. The park their friends chose to meet at was kind of far, forcing them to take the train to and fro, making Osamu step in front of his brother protectively, while the latter protested in annoyance.

Immediately after bathing and sharing a meal, the twins flop onto Osamu’s bed, exhausted, with today’s events wearing them down in a soothing kind of way. The silver head grazed his thumb across Atsumu’s cheek, watching silently as the other closed his eyes, a mantle of lassitude wrapping around them both.

_ Very cute _ , he thought, as the blonde yawned.

“You sleepy?” He inquired, wondering if his brother would have the energy to make good on their promise—he was excited to find out what Atsumu wanted.

“Just tired,” Atsumu answered, voice muffled by the pillow.

“You played volleyball too damn much.”

“I had fun though.”

“Oi, what did Machi tell ya?”

The blonde peaked up at him, indolent eyes blinking. “Just that she was sorry about our fight and stuff. I apologized too.”

“Did she wanna make up with you?” Osamu asked, playing with his brother’s golden hair, adoring the way he leaned into the touch.

“Not sure? I mean, she looked kind of hopeful but I wasn’t about to ask her out again or anything.”

The silver head hummed, twirling a strand of blonde hair between his index finger and thumb. “That makes me happy,” he whispered.

“Bet it does.”

“So,” he began, energy replenished and reloaded as he sat up, crisscross on the bed, “are you too tired to have sex or did you wanna leave our promise for tomorrow?”

Atsumu scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “Is sex all you think about?”

“I think about food too, food is good.”

“Jeez, and here I thought  _ I _ was the more sexually driven one out of the two, but you’re out of this world.” He sat up with a sigh, forced to sit on Osamu’s lap once he looked at him.

“I hope having sex with me is also out of this world.” He grinned, leaning into Atsumu’s neck. “So did you think about what you wanted to do?”

“Yeah.”

Silence. Osamu felt his twin fidget against him.

“What is it then?”

More silence, then a clearing of the throat.

“Well?” He prompted, confused.

“I wanna do it in mom and dad’s room….on their  _ bed _ .”

_ On _ their bed?

Well, shit.

There was a pause, a moment to process the technicalities of what had just been proposed—have sex in their parents room...on their bed to boot. Osamu blinked, taken aback; out of all the things his brother could have requested, that was the last one on his mind. Their parent’s bed was sacred, holy, in a way—untainted by their putrid acts. To have sex on their bed, the bed their parents made love in, the bed they cuddled and shared an intimate relationship in, to ruin all that with their sick debauchery almost felt wrong. But there were always two sides to a coin, and while fucking his brother on their parents bed might feel wrong, the forbidden nature of such an act drew him in.

“Let’s go then.”

“Wait,” Atsumu clutched onto Osamu’s arm, not finished. “But I don’t want you to fuck me.”

“What? Then what do you wanna do? Pray to the virgin Mary?” He scoffed, earning a punch on the arm.

“Then what?”

“I wanna fuck  _ you _ this time.”

He blinked, rendered speechless for the second time that minute. Reverse the roles? Osamu would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about it, but dominating Atsumu just felt natural, and his twin slotted in the submissive role so perfectly, he never questioned it. In fact, Osamu’s never taken dick up his ass before either, always been the other way around and the realization struck him stupid.

“If you don’t want to it’s fine,” the blonde mended, messing with his brother’s undercut, unsure. “You can still fuck me in mom and dad’s bed, if you don’t mind.”

“No—it’s fine,” Osamu assured, regaining his composure, locking eyes with chocolate honey ones. “Have you ever fucked someone before?”

“Machi,” he pointed out. “But never a guy.”

“I’ve never….had a guy in me either.”

“Guess we’ll both be new at this.”

Shamefully, excitement coiled in the pit of Osamu’s stomach with each passing second, mind ravaged by the thought. It was almost as if they were virgins again, extremely inexperienced and clumsy despite all they have done—the thrill threatened to consume him. Suddenly, and quite shamefully, he wanted Atsumu to fuck him into the mattress until he couldn’t walk anymore.

“Grab the lub, we’re gonna need it,” he instructed, crawling off the bed, striding downstairs to the master bedroom. Opening their parents room felt like entering a forbidden land, a place that was sacred and rid of any impurities—a place they weren’t welcomed in. He licked his lips, sensing his brother’s presence behind him.

“You have to take the lead then,” Osmau noted, dazed. After what felt like an eternity, he looked back at the blonde in question, who ambled towards their mother’s side of the bed and plopped down, running his hands over the soft material.

“This is so fucked up,” Atsumu began, staring fondly at the bed sheets.

“Yeah, it is.”

“Have you ever thought about getting caught?”

Why was he bringing this up now?

“A couple times,” he admitted, too many times, more than he’d like to admit, in fact.

“I think about it everyday—it’s haunting almost, and yet here I am, about to fuck my brother on my parents bed.” Atsumu glared at the sheets. “I hate myself.”

“Tsumu,” Osamu agonized, going to stand between his brother's legs. “We won’t get caught.”

“It’s not  _ just _ about getting caught!” He implored, wrenching away, as if burned. “Nevermind, come here.” He forced Osamu on his lap, hands already snaking up his shirt. “You’ve dominated me for far too long, brother, now it’s time I returned the favor.”

“Go ahead, I always knew you had it in you,” he teased, eyeing him through cold lashes, throat closing.

“Shut up.” The words held no bite to them as Atsumu fell backwards on the bed, eyes never straying from Osamu’s as he peered up at him, groping his waits, steadying him on his lap.

“I want you to ride me,” he admitted, swallowing, eyes glued to his face, feeling him on his lap where their bodies met, the tension between them constricting them like tightly-wound springs ready to burst.

Osamu licked his lips at the admission, grinding their hips together without much more incentive, enticing that fire inside them, licking their open wounds, balancing himself as he rutted against his brother’s hardness.

“I like how you look at me,” the blonde continued, allowing his twin to do all the work.

“How do I look at you?”

“Like you want to devour me.”

“That’s because I do.”

Atsumu’s breath hitched as he maneuvered them further into the bed, loving the way Osamu arched his back when he dug his claws into his hips. “When did you start liking me, Samu?”

“When?” He parroted, slightly out of breath, reaching down to pull Atsumu’s cock out of his shorts and begin stroking him. “Hmm, probably when we started playing volleyball. I didn’t know what I was feeling at the time, so I mistook it for admiration,” he explained, stroking slow and dangerously rough, knowing exactly what his brother needed. “You actually look cool when yer focused on something. You’re a pain in the ass most of the time, but you still look cool.”

“Wow,” his brother gasped, both from the confession and the painful squeeze on his shaft. “That long ago?” He hadn’t thought—well, he only assumed the feelings were more recent than deeply rooted.

“Yeah, what about you? Was it that first time I taught you how to kiss?” And he eased his menstruations, allowing his brother enough air to collect his scattered thoughts.

This had Atsumu frowning, reluctant. “I’m not sure, to be honest, I’ve always felt a bit jealous anytime someone got close to you, or even when you played with someone else more than me. I’m not sure if that’s normal sibling behavior or me just not understanding my feelings? I don’t know—I think what solidified it was when I thought you and Machi were going to start dating. I actually got scared.”

“You go scared because you thought we would date?”

“Yeah, I think that’s why I asked her out first, because I didn’t want her to go out with you.”

Osmau stopped moving completely, searching his brother’s gaze mutely, love in his gaze. Ever so slowly, he leaned over to plant a kiss on his lips, eye closed while inhaling, tongue and all, the delicious throng of arousal fogging their minds. Nothing else mattered, everything fell second to this moment, to his brother, to the feelings they shared. Damn the world to hell.

“I want you to make love to me, Tsumu,” he pleaded, feeling his insides boil with need and something else, something softer and more mellow— _ love _ .

Inadvertently, the line made Atsumu’s cock twitch.

“It’s so weird to hear you say that,” came spilling from his mouth. Stupid.

“We’ll, I am the girlfriend for tonight, right?”

Atsumu thought back on his argument with Machi, how their relationship culminated into the scattered remnants of today due to this topic specifically, and here he was, spilling everything in front of his brother for him to devour. It was a pain so beautifully exquisite.

He’d make love to his brother on their parents' bed, the guilt holding him in a vice.

“Hand me the lub, Samu.”

Osamu reached over the nightstand, seizing the bottle without much else, handing it to his brother who leaned upon his elbows, still securely pinned underneath sweaty thighs, penis twitching against a perk ass, needing to be touched.

“I’ll work you open, then you can ride me, okay? Bend over for me.”

“Better not mess up,” the spiker jabbed, lowering himself to the bed, face up, opening himself wide in front of Atsumu, who ran his eyes up his erect member, swollen red and pulsing. The tilting sensation of the blonde massaging his ass made him shiver—is this what his twin felt like every time they had sex?

“Ah!” He gasped when the blonde inserted the first finger past his hole—a foreign sensation but a welcome one as he adjusted around him. “Deeper,” he begged, fisting the sheets that smelled like home; it was sickening.

“Deeper?” Atsumu parroted with a hint of amusement and abrasion, settling in his dominant role quite well. He snuck in a couple of thrusts of his hips as he inserted another finger, making his brother shiver and fidget around him, dick twitching with precum.

“How does it feel?” He asked, noting his labored breath.

“Like I got two fingers up my ass.”

“Poetic.”

Osamu screwed his eyes shut, an overcast of pleasure coursing through his body as he reached over and wrapped his hand around his swollen cock, mind on autopilot as he stroked himself, making for a very obscene sight.

“Look who's all wet now,” Atsumu chided, inserting another finger, scissoring his moaning brother. “You like it that much?”

“Y-yes!” He groaned, stroking faster, arching his back into a perfect bridge, legs nimble, toes gripping the sheets below them. “I can’t wait for the  _ real thing _ .”

“The real thing, huh?” The blonde whispered, engrossed in their sex. “You think you can handle it?”

“Fuck me right now and find out.”

“Such big talk for someone who’s never taken it up the ass before.”

“Guess I learned from the best.”

Osamu rubbed the tip of his swollen penis, eyes glazed over and locked with Atsumu, who froze.

“Lemme suck yer cock, Tsumu,” he beckoned, remaining flat on the bed as his brother recovered from whatever stupor he was in, and snorted. Hands on the headboard, Atsumu loomed his manhood in front of his brother's face, who—never breaking eye contact—took him in his mouth with a couple of licks. The blonde clenched at the sensation, head foggy and hot as his dick entered a warm and moist crevice.

“D-Don’t make me cum just yet—or this will be over way too—q-quick,” he bit out, thrusting his hips a little, only slightly, in a motion he knew his brother could handle.

Licking the aggravated tip, Osamu lapped at his length as if it were some type of ice cream. “Surely you can last longer than a couple of seconds? You’re a volleyball player for crying out loud, where's all yer stamina?”

“I got fucking stamina but this...this is  _ different _ .”

Mercilessly, the silver head narrowed his eyes, tugging at his brother’s cock and teasing his head with his tongue, sucking it in his mouth only to let go moments later. “How so?” He asked, as if he weren’t responsible for his brother’s massive boner.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Atsumu exhaled, forcing his brother’s face up by the edges of his chin. “You little  _ devil _ —look what you’ve done to me! This is painful!” He motioned towards his erection. “You’re so annoying.”

Osamu smirked, going back to licking Atsumu’s tip in slow, languid laps. “You wanna put it in me already, don’t you?

“Y-yeah.”

“Don’t you wanna play around with me some more?”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know, get creative.”

Atsumu looked to the side for a second, deep in thought, glancing at his brother’s beautiful face, wondering how exactly he could get  _ creative  _ when all his brain was commanding him to do was plunge his dick in a hole, and fuck it until the cows came home. The most primitive human instinct, primordial sex.

“For crying out loud—sit  _ down _ .” Osamu frowned, crawling on top of Atsumu’s lap, though he made sure to not sit on him entirely just yet. “Tease me a little with the tip of your cock, don’t put it all the way in.”

“Hey!” Atsumu barked, hands on his twin’s hips and squeezing. “I’m the one calling the shots here!”

“Then call ‘em! Yer just staring off into space like some maniac, I thought yer head might explode or something.”

“Oh, it’s gonna explode alright,” he growled, pushing his cock past Osamu’s virgin ring, ripping a cry out of his brother’s lips, paralyzing them both for a split second.

“I-I said  _ tease _ me first!! You asshole—ah—you’re so bad at this!” He groaned, clenching up tight, making the other moan out loud.

“Fuck—that feels fucking  _ good _ ,” Atsumu grounded out, burying his face in Osamu’s chest, lost in his delirium. “Lower yourself on my dick until you're comfortable, then I’ll start moving.”

Osamu shut his eyes, trembling slightly, head on Atsumu’s shoulder as he lowered himself deeper into his brother's erection, groaning as he did so, feeling lightheaded as his shaft filled him up. The feeling of being spread open stung, unnatural but oh so stimulating. “You’re just a little smaller than me,” he panted, sighing when his brother caressed his hair and thrusted in a bit, “but you’re still huge by normal standards.”

“Machi really liked my dick.” Atsumu began, feeling a little on the douchier side tonight, more so than usual, something he knew his brother detested. He liked annoying his twin, making him jealous too, and it seemed to do the trick.

Osamu, for his part, glared at him, not saying a single word as he started pulling off.

“Wow! Wow! Wait—I didn’t mean it like that!” He backtracked, going pale, angling his brother’s face to look down at him. “Keep going!”

Yet, the other yanked his face out of his hold, sucking in two of his brother’s fingers in his mouth instead, pulling off of Atsumu only when his tip was nudging his ass. Transfixed, the blonde sat in a hex as the boy sucked at his fingers, making the lewdest sounds he’s ever heard from him. Circling his hips to rub against his brother’s swollen member, the spiker rutted against him in languid, rolling thrusts.

“Don’t  _ make _ me take the lead again,” Osamu warned, eyes sharp, a stare that screamed— _ I fucking dare you to test me. _

The blonde swallowed, nodding his head, drunk off lust as he wrapped his hands around Osamu’s ass and spread him wider. “Let me cum inside you.”

“Cum inside me then.”

They moan in union when he guides his throbbing dick inside Osamu’s entrance again, sighing when he breaks through his entrance, that familiar heat makes his twin stiffen above him. Carefully, with attentive calculation, he thrusted up, pelvis rolling sensually as he sunk deeper into the warm nest his brother provided, fitting around him like a glove. The feeling was addicting.

“C-Christ,” Atsumu groaned against the resistance when his brother let out a particularly hot moan against his neck, itching to fuck into him faster but keeping his comfort in mind. “Who knew this could feel  _ so _ fucking— _ good _ .”

“It still hurts a little,” Osamu admitted through clenched teeth, leaning most of his weight against his brother, who kept thrusting into him little by little, at an excruciating pace.

“Maybe this will help take your mind off the pain,” his twin offered, using one hand to jack his brother off, who snapped up, arching into the touch.

“‘T-Tsumu—ah—“

“Feels good, dont it?”

He nodded, tongue like led, biting his lip, toes curling as he panted into the room, feeling the juices of the lub glide down his thighs. Then, a surge of pleasure hit him when Atsumu brushed against that one spot inside him with his cock, the spot that made him see color.

“Fuck me right there!” He groaned, yanking on Atsumu’s hair out of reflex, who didn’t even flinch as he rocked his hips further into him, eyes determined to hit that G spot every time.

“Ah—ah—‘ _ Tsumu _ ,” Osmau chanted, swaying rhythmically, music to his brother’s ears as his thrust increased, flicking back and forth like a rubber band pulled taunt. His muscles contracted and expanded around his brother, digging him out, molding his body to fit him all at once.

“I-I’m close—Samu,” he panted, biting the supple muscle on Osamu’s shoulder.

“Not yet,” the other begged, clawing at his brother’s chest, who sunk in deeper.

“Keep pulling my hair,” Atsumu instructed, cock and balls deep inside the other, so close to ejaculating inside him. “It turns me on.”

“Who would've thought my brother was such—ah—a masochist—ah!”

“I ain’t no damn masochist— _ ah fuck _ !”

Atsumu’s mind went blank with pleasure, chalkboard going white as he climaxed and spilled inside his brother, arching his back in multiple final thrusts as his sticky semen filled up that hot crevice with urgency. Osamu, feeling Atsumu’s load shoot inside him, arched his back and came on top of Atsumu's abdomen, jerking himself off as he climaxed with lips slightly ajar.

Pure bliss.

They collapse in union, Osamu on top of Atsumu while they panted out their release, sweat doting their forehead as they brushed up against each other, lying in a pool of fuzzy comfort and jizz.

“Incredible,” the blonde panted, still fully inserted inside his brother as if he had knotted him. “It’s like I'm in heaven.”

“How corny,” Osamu scoffed with a laugh, blowing some hair out of his eyes with a single breath. “You were incredible though, better than I thought.”

“Bet your ass I was.” And he smacked Osamu’s perky butt, making the other clench around him.

“Get off your high horses and help me clean up before our jizz leaves stains on mom and dad’s bed,” he grumbled, extracting himself from atop of Atsumu with a groan.

The other just laid there in his post-climactic high, wrist shielding his eyes as he swallowed. The sight was reminiscent of the first night they had sinned, making Osamu wonder if he might cry and reject him again.

“ _ Goddam _ we gotta do that more often.”

Thank god.

“Switching roles?”

“Yeah, feels good fuckin’ into ya and hearing you cum.”

“You’ve heard me cum before.”

“Yeah, but it's different when it’s  _ my _ cock making you climax.”

“How obscene.” He narrowed his eyes, alight with pleasure. “Come on, let’s clean up.”

“~Kay.”

Their parents come home Monday afternoon without a hitch, by then, Atsumu and Osamu have made sure to clean up any trace of their sexual endeavours from all surfaces and sheets, returning to their normal, mundane schedule.

That was until Atsumu Miya met Hinata Shouyou at nationals for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter updates might slow down after this chapter for two reasons: 1st, before publishing this story I wrote rough drafts up to chapter 6, which really helped me update the story almost on a weekly basis. Naturally, I’ve reached the conclusion of these rough drafts but DONT WORRY, I’m still going to update the story, becuase next chapter is when the real drama starts to set in! <3
> 
> Second reason: I’ve been feeling kind of down lately, with little motivation or spirit to write which sucks :/ talking to you guys helps though, so leave me a review! <3


	7. Chapter 7

“You should’ve seen ‘em, Samu! He was so fucking small!”

Ah.

This was draining.

“I’m talking tiny  _ tiny _ !”

Chin resting on the palm of his hand, jaded eyes blinking in mild interest, Osamu listened to his brother ramble on and on about some unknown player at nationals.

It was fine for the first minute or two, interesting to some degree, he’ll admit, until the blonde continued his verbal waterfall, unable to drop the topic despite already mentioning  _ more _ than enough details about a certain player that could fly as high as crows—

Hinata Shouyou.

It was his first time hearing the name; it rang clearly in his head like a gong. The scoop of rice in his mouth mitigated the hint of jealousy in his gut to a very slight degree— _ slight degree,  _ mind you. Yet, it didn’t help the fact that Atsumu, undeterred by blank faces and drawn out sighs, uttered the name with wonder, twinkles in his eyes and all.

Osamu slumped, chewing his rice more profoundly.

“He was little but he had a nasty jump, I’m talking  _ nasty _ ,” Atsumu added, making the spiking motion with his hand.

Why did he care so much?

“Are ya gonna eat yer food?” He asked, pointing at the unfinished bowl of rice in front of his twin, simultaneously bypassing the conversation entirely and grabbing the dish.

The setter, for his part, frowned, slamming an irritated fists on the table, alarming the rest of the team, who knew how dangerous the fine thread between irritation and a full blown fight could be.

“Are ya even listening to me?” Atsumu growled, fuming at the seams. “I’m telling ya about—“

“Hinata Shouyou,” the latter finished plainly, mindlessly chewing on the stolen goods, “I know, but why should I care again?”

“Why you—“ A light shove and a scowl. “You fucking cuck of a brother!”

“Watch your language,” Kita cut in, eyes sharp and incisive, making the twins tense in union.

“Look what you did,” Osamu growled. “You got us in trouble.” He jabbed the blonde under the table with an elbow, only to be blocked by the former with a readied hand; years of honed muscle memory stored from countless sibling bickering prepared him for such.

“Me? You’re the dummy who doesn’t listen to a thing I say!” He half screamed half whisper, despite the whole team being able to hear him clear as day.

“Oh, I’ve been listening, I just don’t care.”

“Well you should!”

“Why is that?”

“Cuz we're gonna face that little shrimp tomorrow at nationals, and ya better not lag behind like last time!” Every word was punctuated with an accusing finger, rising in tone as he went.

“They’re at it again,” Suna pointed out, watching them from across the table, thoroughly amused. “They never learn,” he tacked on, taking out his phone.

“I’m surprised Kita hasn’t stopped them,” Akagi mused, smile never falling, even as he ate.

“Probably finds this humorous too,” Aran explained, sighing in disapproval.

“I was sick with a stomach ache!” Osamu spat, an acute tone of asperity hitting his palate; meal ruined. “I told you! There was nothing I could’ve done!”

“Having the shits is no excuse!” The blonde bulldozed through the argument despite it being a reasonable counterattack; he was having none of it. “You should’ve just shit yourself and continued the game! We almost lost cuz of you!”

“Why you fucking—“

“Hey, you two!”

Stopping the brewing battle with words came too little, too late however, as the twins seized each other up by the collar, at each other’s throats.

“You good for nothing sack of sewage water, at least my hair ain’t the color of piss!” Osamu barked.

“At least I didn’t  _ piss _ myself in fourth grade!”

“That—that wasn’t my fault!”

“Piss boy! Piss boy!”

“You’re going to get us kicked out of the hotel!” Aran cut in with urgency, though his warning fell to deaf ears.

Scandalized, Osamu bit his lip in rage; maybe it was the fact that they haven’t had sex in over a week—courtesy of volleyball practice and homework—or perhaps it was the ounce of jealousy he refused to acknowledge, whatever the case, the frustration coursing through his veins was boiling over at an alarming rate. By this point, he was contemplating homicide. “When are you gonna let that  _ go _ , you fuck! S’not my fault the teacher didn’t believe me when I told ‘em I had to piss!”

“So! Everyone still remembers it!”

Suna, almost pissing with laughter himself, held back if only because of the pointed stare shot at him by their captain.

“At least people  _ like _ me!” Osamu continued.

“Plenty of people like me!”

“Granny and her dog don’t count, dip shit.”

“That’s it—“ Atsumu jolted upwards in a single motion, fists drawn, chin up. “Let’s fucking go.”

“Gladly.”

“You two aren’t going anywhere,” Aran interjected again, to no avail.

Osamu stood, nice and slow, rolling his shoulder. “You really gonna make me do this in front of the team, Tsumu? Yer gonna make me kick yer ass?” Their dialect was thicker in anger, more pronounced and heavier.

“I’d like to see ya try, piss boy! I’ll kick yer ass first.”

“Come over here then,” he beckoned with a flick of his wrist.

“...”

“I’m waiting.”

Atsumu swallowed, eyes flickering over to Kita for any sign of approval. There was none.

“Tch, just as I thought,” Osamu goaded, non-relenting, provoking the other further. “Ya like picking fights for the hell of it, don’tcha? All bark and no bite.”

“All show you all bark and no bite!”

A lunge is tried by the blonde, ready to take down his twin brother like the rampaging bull that he was, when a smaller figure manifested before him, making him reel back as hard as a slingshot.

“Enough,” Shinsuke demanded, eyes sharp and condemning. “We don’t want two of our players getting injured a day before the match, do we?” Both twins nod in agreement, tails between their legs immediately. “Good, now finish up your meals and let’s get ready for bed, we have an exciting day tomorrow.”

It was all the coercion needed to start picking up the table.

That night, as the reassuring sound of subtle snores filled the room, Osamu stirred in his own sleep deprivation. Sleep eluded him with every twist and turn of his body, trying in vain to get comfortable. Memories and frantic thoughts mix in all at once, making for a good dose of energy, a horrible thing to have a night before their match.

Exasperated, he settled for staring at the ceiling, a reassuring pressure nestled against his right—Atsumu, who laid against his arm. Despite his chaotic nature during the day, the blonde slept as soundly as a newborn puppy during the night; a trickle of saliva past parted lips, accentuating his slumber.

What a big baby.

All that fussing and yelling, and for what? Just so he could look like a little puppy slumbering against his shoulder? The two versions of his brother didn’t mix at all, a stark contrast from each other, like water and oil. One fiery the other subdued.

What an endearing joke.

Sighing, unable to stop himself, he brushed feather-light touches over those wayward strands of golden hair around Atsumu’s face, comfortable that no one was watching him. Slight delight filtered through his chest as the blonde’s face scrunched up, nosing his way deeper into the touch.

Atsumu was a perpetual messy sleeper, going as far as sleep talking on occasions, and at its worse, sleep waking when they were young. It only calmed down when he slept next to Osamu; they guessed it was due to the comfort of another body next to him, though it was a shot in the dark, one Atsumu refused to believe.

_ “I ain’t a sissy,” _ he’d say, turning away defiantly.

Old forgotten memories from the past flowed through his head as gentle as a stream, reminding him of the numerous occasions they slept together as kids, of the few chances he would sneak a kiss against his cheek, maybe once or trice on the lips. Back then, it was Osamu who clung to Atsumu for support, afraid of the dark, adamant that there were figures lurking in the shadows.

Atsumu, ever the brave one, would  _ scare _ off the ‘evil figures’ with a hidden flashlight they kept by the bedside table. A frail smile overtook his features, eyes full of adoration as he gazed down on the rare order of beauty that was his twin brother’s sleeping form. He was always beautiful, but this version of him was infinitely softer.

It was sappy as fuck, he knew, but he liked how, over time, the roles of protector and protected switched, turning from Atsumu to Osamu. Suddenly, he would cling less, cry less, whine less, until Osamu’s own apathy overcook most of his senses. He could tell it had bothered Atsumu at first, no longer the older, overprotective twin brother, but someone who stood on par with him. Even if the blonde claimed not to care about the gradual shift, under the guise that he’d been relieved he wasn’t being clung to anymore, Osamu wondered if he missed his protective role.

They were so different from the kids they once were, which is to be expected, he knew, but actually meditating about the drastic changes in both their persons and relationship was tilting. Never would he have imagined that, at the ripe age of fourteen, he’d lose himself to an incestrous relationship with his brother. Yet, here they were, interlocked in a sensual and forbidden relationship.

Osamu was thankful Atsumu slowly caved into his silent desires as well, had he rejected him, he couldn’t imagine the damage he would have caused, not only to Atsumu, but their entire family as a whole. It would have been a point of no return. Stung by the thought, he wrapped his arms around the blonde, bringing him closer to his chest, inhaling his sweet scent.

He never wanted to lose Atsumu. Not to their family, not to anyone.

Like a gong, the name wrung in his head again— _ Hinata Shouyou _ .

It stuck like glue; another ‘little giant’, not as formidable of an opponent, but equally, if not more interesting than him. It was strange to see Atsumu so taken by a random player; Osamu couldn’t remember the last time his brother felt impressed enough to actually mention it to him. Perhaps the only other person to catch his attention was the same setter that got him into volleyball in the first place. At that time, Osamu had been respectfully jealous as well, after all, the setter himself had been a constant topic of excitement and respect for the blonde, claiming that he was the inspiration for his position in volleyball.

The wonder mirrored in his brother’s eyes could match the sun, while Osamu worked with uncomfortable ounces of jealousy gnawing at his chest. Jealousy, abandonment and irritation were emotions mixed in all at once, and perhaps it was the extremity of such emotions that struck him with the slow realization that, maybe his feelings weren’t normal, maybe they were a little too strong and strange for his brother. The feelings were  _ wrong _ , he thought.

It was both a blessing and curse.

Now, this insistent gnawing at his chest returned in the form of a boundless crow by the name of Hinata Shouyou, and Osamu wondered what that might bring to the table this time around.

—

Crisp clean air with a hint of asperity stolen in each breath cuts through Osamu’s throat as he disembarks the bus; Atsumu right at his heel, stepping aside to take in the view. An array of colors and bodies gloss across the parking lot, all headed towards the stadium in preparation for the tournaments. Masses of schools and athletes of all backgrounds line the pavement, all eager to play and win the trophy.

Inarizaki was no different.

Pre-match jitters were a common occurrence in most volleyball players, no matter the team or the skill, and even team favorites like Inarizaki suffered the effects. Unfortunately, Osamu was not immune to it either, however stoic he may portray himself to be. Luckily, having Atsumu by his side, a literal mass of confidence when it came to volleybal, subdued the jitters, if only a tad. His brother was an exception to the terms and services, a loophole in the disclaimer that allowed him to carry on as if it were standard day.

Amazing, really.

It was an aspect of his brother he secretly adored and respected despite condoning him for it at times; something that drew him in along with the rest of the world. Beholding that superfluous pride that was Atsumu on court, almost felt like a concert itself, and the best part was that his brother could back up his shit talking with literal skill.

“Look at all of this,” the blonde sighed, motioning with his hands to the sight before him. “The world is in the palm of our hands, Samu.”

Ah, there goes that superfluous pride again.

“Just make sure to keep it cool,” Osamu advised, readjusting his backpack over lax shoulders, waiting for the rest of the team to filter out. “Don’t scream at the crowd like last time.”

“I didn’t scream at them!” He barked, ambling towards the stadium once everyone was counted for. “I just wanted those squealing pigs to shut up.”

“Squealing pigs?” Rintaro mocked, yawning. “This is why you’ll never get another girlfriend, Atsumu, you're a grade A asshole.”

“Tch, don’t give a shit.”

“Sure you don’t.”

“Damn,” Osamu cursed, palming the sides of his pants in alarm—his phone. “I think I forgot my phone back in the bus.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Atsumu rasped.

“Don’t give me that look,” he groaned, sighing. “I’m gonna run and get it, don’t wait up.”

“You heard the man,” Kita announced, pointing at the building, “let’s go.”

Atsumu’s gaze lingered for a split second, conflicted with a slight pout on his lips before following the rest of the team.

Exhaling, Osamu began his brisk jog back to the bus, luckily they hadn’t gone so far as to not be able to see it anymore. Focusing his energy on getting there and running back as soon as possible, he’s about to release a breath of relief, when a blur of color floods his peripheral. Unable to stop himself in time, he crashed into the force he assumed was a person.

“Ack!” The guy yelped, trying in vain to steady himself but ending up on his ass anyway. Osamu, momentarily disoriented by the crash, steadied his balance.

“Sorry,” he began, out stretching his hand for the stranger to take, “Didn't mean to bump into ya.”

“It’s okay!” The guy beamed, resembling a literal ball of sunshine; he was short, almost like a middle schooler, save for the subtle definition of muscle on his legs. Osamu wasn’t staring, really, he wasn’t, but not noticing was a difficult task when the guy landed on his ass, quite comically, too.

“Hope I didn’t hurt you,” he mended, bowing, a gesture that was returned to him full force, almost to a ninety degree angle—who was this guy?

“Not at all! I’m fine—see?” The boy lifted his shirt, exposing his chest and navel, not a scratch in sight. Osamu stood there, dumbfounded. “I should be the one apologizing to you!” The guy continued. “I ran into  _ you _ at full speed! I have too much energy sometimes and I don’t watch where I’m going!” He pumped his fists, smiling, a loud reckless thing.

“I can tell,” he agreed, mesmerized by the guy's energy bursting at the seams; if only he had half this kid's energy. “You’re very energetic.”

“I have to be if I wanna reach the top!”

A quizzical brow is raised. “The top? The top of what? The stairs? Are you a fan here to see the tournament or something?”

The guy gawked, smile wiped clean, scandalized by the mere suggestion. “What?! N-no—No!” He shook his head in denial, eyes wide. “I’m here to play! I’m a volleyball player!”

“You?” Osamu dared, comfortable enough with the stranger despite having just met. “Kinda short for a volleyball player, dontcha think?” He smiled kindly, a stark contrast from the teasing words coming from his mouth, leaving the stranger in shambles, face going hot.

“Gahhh! Listen—“ another vein popped on his person, leaving Osamu feeling strangely satisfied. “I may be small but I can jump as high as The Little Giant!”

“The Little Giant, huh?” He leaned in, touching his own chin, scrutinizing him with a heavy brow. “You tryin’ to be the next Little Giant or something?”

“Yeah!” He boasted, eyes full of a child-like confidence, reminding him of Atsumu. “What about you? What are you?”

“Me? Well, I’m just hungry and ready to eat.” He patted his stomach lazily, looking around for emphasis, making the boy bristle with hidden mirth.

“No, I’m being serious!” He stifled a chuckle long enough to compose himself. “You don’t look like a fan…”

“Oh? What do I look like, then?” He mused, dangling the bait in front of him in amusement, wondering if he might bite and play along.

“I-I’m not sure.”

“Not sure? Hm, come on, I know you know.”

“Are you…”

“Go on.”

“A volleyball player?”

“Bingo.”

The kid tensed up. “What team?”

A genuine smile graced the corner of his lips, eyes narrowed into slits, the sight akin to a wolf cornering its prey. “Inarizaki.”

“Inarizaki!?” The shorter all but screamed, instantly defensive, color draining.

“Yup, what about you?”

“Karasuno…”

There’s a moment of silence as realization dawns on both their faces, then the next second Osamu is looming over the kid’s space, lips turning up a fraction, eyes menacing.

“Oh, so you’re the  _ enemy _ ?” Not a question but an affirmation, almost a declaration of rivalry that had the stranger going pin straight.

“Enemy?!” He floundered, drawing a small chuckle from Osamu, who would have indulged himself further had they not been in the middle of a tournament. Instead, he extended his hand in a friendly sign of respect. “Guess we’ll see who comes on top when we face off.”

Without so much as a flinch, the mystery player took hold of his hand with a firm and confident grip. “I won’t lose,” he promised, and from the confidence in his eyes alone, Osamu knew he’d make good on his promise.

“Hm, doesn’t matter, because in the end—“ he shrugged, hands still connected, “I’ll still be hungry as hell no matter what.”

The boy laughed again, a gentle upbeat thing. “I’ll see you on court then!” He waved in a rush, bolting in the opposite direction.

Caught in the moment, the silver head stared in wonder, an air of uncanny familiarity swirling in his mind as he watched him go—short, energetic, Little Giant—could it be?

“Wait!” He called out before he could stop himself, freezing the guy mid-step.”Your name, what is it?”

A smile full of subtle charm reflected back at him.

“Hinata Shouyou!”

Mind frozen, struck dumb with a strange surprise, Osamu’s eyes widen—Hinata Shouyou.  _ The _ Hinata Shouyou.

His hand fell flat against his side, head empty, forgetting the reason why he came this way in the first place. That was Hinata, the same player Atsumu was raving on about all last night, a silent rival in more ways than one. Swallowing, every bit tense and affected, he scoffed away the jitters—the kid was something else, handsome too, in a pretty-boy kind of way. Should he feel threatened?

Nothing in Osamu felt overly defensive, greatly due to the fact that he instantly liked Hinata Shouyou despite having a slight inferiority complex to said guy. Yet, he couldn’t find a thing in him that he hated or disliked, not one thing; the kid was too likable and it only made things more confusing.

Rolling his jaw, retrieving the phone was done on autopilot, reuniting with his teammates without so much as a hitch, though his head still flooded itself with a murky reluctance.

“What took ya so long!” Atsumu griped as soon as he walked in, instantly inept to the offset look in Osamu’s eyes. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” he lied, dismissing the concern, choosing to keep his meeting with Hinata a secret for now, at least until the match was over. Though Atsumu, keen on the trouble collected around his brother's brow, refused to let it go.

“Nothing my ass,” he countered, nearing him, locking eyes. “What happened?”

“Like I said,” he squeezed out, tight-lipped as he forced the hand away, “nothing.”

Atsumu, wearing a look full of subtle concern armed with irritation, huffed. “Yer lucky the match’s about to begin, and this better not set off yer game, Samu.”

“Will ya quit whining?” He grounded out, hating how tense and overbearing Atsumu could get before a game. “I ain’t throwing off anything.”

“Don’t fight before the game you two.” Aran came in, deflating the situation, a norm when it came to the twins.

“We ain’t fighting!” They bark in union, glaring at each when they synced up perfectly.

“Good,” Kita said, placating eyes landing on both twins. “We need both of you monsters on your top condition today. We can’t underestimate our opponent, no matter the challenger.”

There's a surge of confidence and reassurance filtering through the team as they huddle around their captain, his words boosting and strengthening their spirits with every word. Leave it to Kita to fire them up with a few simple but wise words.

There’s pride in the young man’s eyes as he contemplated his teammates, all a pack of hungry foxs ready to devour any challenger that stepped in their way. The next action is subtle, full of meaning and power as he extended his hand, pleased when, one by one, his teammates joined in.

“We don’t need memories,” he began, acting as a gatekeeper to their full potential, a pathway shined by a single lantern. “All we need is today.”

“Who needs memories!” They chant, smooth as a practiced symphony, arms going down in promise, opening up like a flower in spring. Filled with determination and renewed inspiration, the team filtered out of the locker room, heading down the short hallway that led them to the stadium. The heavy beat of Inarizaki’s band is ricocheting through Osamu’s chest, bouncing off his ribcage and rattling his heart. It had an almost calming effect on them as they walked, coveted by momentary darkness before breaking through the extremity of a lit stadium. There is noise everywhere. Eyes everywhere. If you’re not careful, the weight of such scrutiny might crush you. 

They’re greeted by an ocean of fans cheering and hollering, hungry for a match to behold; dauntless crows against a pack of merciless foxes. At the end of the court, Osamu spots a fiery flash of orange—Hinata, and like a gong the stage is set.

His gaze lingered, and so did Atsumu’s, making his chest flare. Enraptured by his own enthusiasm, said ace setter ambled over to Karasuno’s side of the court during practice. A straight shot towards Hinata’s general direction, though he hid his true intentions well, stopping by Karasuno’s ace setter first, Kageyama Tobio. Osamu might look uninterested, but he’d studied up on the team in more detail on the bus drive over here, recognizing their faces, their play styles, their strengths and their weaknesses.

It was all he needed.

They formed a formidable team, with a particular wild card thrown in the mix, making for a solid opponent on court. With annoyance, he noted how friendly Atsumu was being, though that friendliness came with a double-edge sword, his true intentions clear—rile them up a bit. It was a tactic Osamu himself wasn’t fond of, a stark contrast from Atsumu, who fed of his opponents fear.  _ “Makes em nervous,” _ he had explained once, shit-eating grin on his face.

Knuckles tightly wound into a fist, he continued to observe his brother out of the corner of his eye, how him near Hinata, that infamous cock-sucking smirk on his face compelling you to wipe it clean with a fist. Geez, his brother could be such an annoying little shit when it came to volleyball, and by the way Hinata tensed up, he could tell his brother worked his magic. Fuck, the little winged spiker probably thought it had been him who had antagonizing him, mistaking Atsumu for himself.

Proud of himself, Atsumu left the opposing team with a slight pep in his walk, bumping into Osamu’s shoulder as he passed by, not a word of explanation. Whatever, he’d ask him later.

Backs straight, muscles taunt, nerves tense, Karasuno and Inarizaki stood parallel to each other in perfect lines, eyes locking, preparing for an intense showdown, ready to edge themselves into the hall of fame. Those same unwelcome jitters claimed Osamu as its victim once more, standing with them as they waited in attention for the signal to begin.

_ FWEET _ !

The whistle echoed in his ears, bringing with it an acute spike of adrenaline, though he cloaked it well behind a cool mask. From his position, he had a straight shot view of Hinata, who looked excited beyond belief, ready to devour a full course meal.

Seriously, what was up with this guy?

He could tell, without looking back, Atsumu was ready to serve, commanding the band to complete silence with a single motion of his fists. It was his brother’s signature play style—calm, intense and attention grabbing, counting down the seconds as an unstoppable serve is wound up. Right before the clap of thunder, two fans decide to cheer, cutting through the very silence his brother treasured beyond belief.

“Well then,” Osamu sighed with a plain look, hands behind his head, sensing the fumes wafting from his twin. This should be fun.

The game continued in a constant tug of war; a point taken here, a point stolen there, and then, like the peak of a song, Karasuno’s freak quick is thrown in the mix, filling Atsumu with a bountiful energy that urged him to recreate it. As they progressed, Osamu could tell with each play how much more keen Atsumu and Hinata were of each other, how attentive and amazed the orange head was, and how engrossed in the game Atsumu was becoming. Even to the point of pushing him into riskier plays, forcing him into compromising positions, edging him to his limits. The jerk even had the balls to tell him to not mess up the timing of the next attack. 

Affronted, Osamu glared.

He couldn’t, for the life of him, shake the strange feeling off his chest—for every spike, every block, every receive, every dig, every one-touch, every glance at Atsumu and Hinata added a grain of jealousy to his already jealous-ridden heart. Poisoning him. Dimmed by the cold touch of envy, he tensed, anger masked under a cool glare.

He didn’t understand why it was such a point of contention—it was there, it was raw and it made his head spin, muscles constricting with both nervousness and aggravation.

They were both undoubtedly taken by the smaller player, mesmerized by his jumps and his freak quicks, but just as Osamu was shocked, Atsumu was captivated. He could tell by the lost look in his brother's eyes, the slight parting of soft lips, the blush on supple cheeks—Hinata Shouyou was as much of a radiant star as the sun was to the earth. Riveted. Drawn in at full attention and the realization stung.

It wasn’t the end of the line however, no, not for Atsumu, never him. His hunger grew, becoming insatiable as they mirrored the same exact quick, if not faster, mesmerizing the entire stadium. They made it seem like light work, Atsumu’s victorious howl echoing in his ears as the after effects of such a move—one they’ve never practiced before—took its toll.

Then it happened—adding salt to an open wound that shouldn’t be there in the first place—the look of utter fascination bounced right back to Atsumu by Hinata himself.

Osmau stared at the scene unfold before him. He’d pushed himself to his limit for his brother, executed every risky play without a single complaint, made up for his twin’s blunders on court only to have said merits directed at someone else.

Was it wrong to feel betrayed? Angered? Deceived?

With a look of disdain, he forced his emotions down, the action tasting like a spoonful of spoiled milk. He couldn’t let his team down, couldn’t let the anvil of self deprecation drag him down, lest he want Atsumu’s wrath at the end of the game.

Though the efforts were for naught.

Kurasuno ends up taking the third and final set, granting them access to victory, securing their position to the next match. It’s a heavy defeat, but Osamu can’t help feel relieved—relieved that it was finally over. He had little desire to hold a grudge, unlike his brother, who could remain bitter for weeks on end. Osamu took each loss and won with a grain of salt, enjoying it for what it was and learning from his mistakes.

Their mistake this time? Being too experimental.

By the end of the game he wanted to devour Atsumu, both in annoyance and fascination. Annoyance because Atsumu made him out to be his puppet the entire game, fascination because of his insatiable hunger that drove him to push the envelope further and further until everyone was left catching up. The urge to say something—anything—rippled through him in waves, stifled down in favor of shaking the winner’s hands.

When he reached Hinata, their eyes hooked, hands tightly grasped within one another as his smile brightened.

“Osamu-san?” He tried, clearly confused by the set of doubles.

“You figured it out,” he complimented, because he wasn’t a jerk, and though he felt a stone lodged in his chest, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Hinata.

“Yeah!” He beamed, softened by a lingering confusion, scratching the back of his head as he switched between him and Atsumu. “But I have to admit..I can’t tell you two apart.”

“That’s easy,” Atsumu interjected, arm over Osamu’s shoulder in a mischievous kind of way. “I’m the more handsome twin.”

“Tch.”

“Shouyou-kun.”

And then there’s a shift in the air; the atmosphere sours, and Osamu can sense the tension in his lungs as Atsumu points his finger at Hinata, loud and daunting, catching them all off guard.

“One day, I’m gonna set for you.”

The deceleration left them all winded, as if in the aftermath of an earthquake—set for you? What did that mean? Not in a literal sense, because Osamu knew what the words meant, but what did it  _ mean _ ?

Hinata, grasping for words, held an expression of mildly humorous surprise, equally as surprised as he stared at Atsumu as if he’d grown a second head. His words were a bold declaration, perhaps even a challenge to the opposing team, and never—in all their years of playing volleyball—had Atsumu declared such a thing.

Osamu paused, stunned and disheartened. 

Without realizing it, his leg moved on its own, kicking his brother's ass as soon as he passed him, eyes screaming— _ what the hell was that? _ Of course, the little shit didn’t bother explaining, instead, he joined the rest of their team, bowing in front of the crowd who cheered as if they hadn’t just lost the game. Through the litany of cheers, Osamu chanced a glance at his brother, an unpleasant and heavy sensation at his heart as the other smirked in both annoyance and excitement. He tore his eyes away from the scene, following the drag of his teammates feet as they filtered out of the stadium one by one.

The ride back to the hotel was a silent one, filled with tension and crestfallen faces—they’d worked most of the year for this, blood, sweat and tears went into this, and though they took the defeat like men, the dissolutions of not winning—of being eliminated on their first game—stung. Nationals was meant to be their claim to fame; Inarizaki being amongst the top schools to take gold, it was supposed to be  _ their _ run.

Defeat wasn’t in the plans.

The strangest part? How deathly silent Atsumu was being, more so than usual. Usually, after a particularly hard loss, he’d sulk for about five to ten minutes, letting it soak in, gripe at them for another five minutes and declare the next world war against the opposing team for the rest of the day. Standard Atsumu behavior. This time, however, he sat still in his seat, lost in irritable reflection as an eternity of silence oppressed him. His body laid lax against the cool metal surface, glossy eyes unwavering as they stared out the window, and for the first time in seventeen years, Osamu didn’t know what his twin brother was thinking.

The fact perturbed him; as abrasive as a punch to the gut.

For the first time after their initial kiss, he felt lost. He doesn’t dare disturb the blonde whilst in his tender state though, confounded by the unfamiliar territory. Instead of grabbing the bull by the horns, he left it alone, all the way up to the dinner table, where most of them ate in silence.

The defeat weighed heavy on their shoulders, some more than others. Osamu fought with a residing sentiment of guilt, guilt because, while he was upset over their loss, it wasn’t what stung the most—no, he’d look to Atsumu for the worst defeat of them all.

_ I’ll set for you one of these days. _

What had that meant? Was Atsumu really taken by Hinata so much that the bitter taste of defeat did little to quell the fire that sparked between them? Had Hinata and Tobio’s quick really mesmerized him that much? Hadn’t they performed the exact same quick? Hadn't he bent over backwards for those risky plays to appease Atsumu?

Was that nothing to him?

Annoyed, Osmau ignored his brother for the remainder of the day, sulking on opposite sides of the room, deflating and cooling down. Kita, being the responsible and blunt captain that he was, asked if they were okay; Osmau nodded silently, Atsumu shrugged halfheartedly. There was little to no point in asking the blonde when he was like this, a literal closed book in this state. To wrap everything up in a pretty red bow, he caught his twin watching one of Karasuno’s old games, specifically Hinata.

His fists clenched.

There was no reason to be jealous. More than likely, he’s exaggerating the whole ordeal in his head; in the end, he knew his brother’s feelings, knew they loved each other to the moon and back—sexual intimacy aside—no matter what or who they met, they’d love each other deeply. Their bond wouldn’t change, and yet, he couldn’t help the bile running down his throat, the ache in his chest, the confusion in his mind. What if this was the first step towards their inevitable demise? What if this was Atsumu’s first encounter with someone who could impress him more than even Osamu himself? The road that led them into someone else’s arms?

He thought he’d prepared for it; they were in their second year of high school after all, and contemplating the fact that, slowly, they’d find someone else they were interested in wasn’t a distant worry anymore. He knew their relationship couldn’t last, it wasn’t meant to be forever, and yet, he didn’t think the process would start this soon.

Or perhaps he didn’t want it to start at all.

“I’m taking a shower,” Atsumu declared, not waiting for an answer, ambling towards the public showers downstairs.

“Better hurry up before they close them up for the night,” Aran warned, sighing when Atsumu didn’t acknowledge his words. “Guess the defeat hit him hard this time, huh?”

“I think it’s something else,” Kita began, ever the observant one.

“You do?” The wing spiker prompted, garnering their attention.

“Yeah, he’s not in his usually defeated phase, no, he almost seems…happy?”

“Happy?” Rintaro parroted in disbelief, hugging a pillow to his chest. “That sulky sack of potatoes?”

“Yeah.” Their captain nodded, eyes never faltering. “That’s not the face of a man who’s angry or even defeated. He looks determined, almost, like a flame caught in his eyes.”

The room rocked with a beat of silence, taking in Kita’s words, worried thoughts busy on their ace setter who was acting strangely. Osamu, not allowing another second to pass, quickly gathered his night clothes and bolted for the showers as well. Someone called his name, Rintaro maybe, but he’s too preoccupied with thoughts of Atsumu to care.

He found his brother under the warm spray, head bowed between taunt shoulders, back muscles wound, hands plastered against the tile wall in front of him as he held his head under the spray. The space around them is hot, steam swirling in clouds. Osamu doubted Atsumu even noticed him step inside his stall until he carefully grabbed the dip of his waist.

The blonde doesn’t flinch, doesn’t even look back, almost as if he knew Osamu would be there all along. A relaxed sigh escaped his parted lips as he leaned back, all the way until his head landed on Osamu’s shoulder, eyes closed and breathless.

They stay like that for what felt like hours, neither of them talking or moving, just basking in each other’s company, not mindful of the fact that one of their teammates could walk in and discover them in the same stall. Lucky for them, the four walls confining them reached the floor, and even if one of their friends came in, they wouldn’t know they were together.

With that in mind, Osamu hummed as Atsumu reached over and dug his fingers into his scalp, drawing a breath of relief from him. Feeling his brothers against him, so close yet so far, was mentally draining. He leaned in closer.

“Touch me,” the blonde began, stealing a chaste kiss from the silver head.

“We can’t,” he whispered, blinking the water from his eyes. “Not here.” Yet he trailed Atsumu’s neck with his lips, grazing his ribcage with the palm of his hands, ceasing his desires from going any further because he knew, without a doubt, that once he started he wouldn’t be able to stop. Not with Atsumu, never with him.

“You’re such a tease, Samu.”

_ And what about you? _ —he wanted to counter, licking and nibbling on supple muscle instead. “Are you okay?” He chanced, because he’s concerned and attentive, hoping for some type of alleviation to this insistent apprehension building up in his chest.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” And those fingers dig into his hair again, forcing him still.

“No reason,” he lied, because it’s easier than exposing the truth. “You’re acting weird. I thought you’d be more upset.”

There’s a pause and a slight hesitation against his scalp. For a second, Osmau held his breath, too, equally bewitched by the moment.

“Why would I be upset if I found the player I wanna set for in the future.”

There it was, the straw that broke the camel's back. Osamu, slapped with both incomprehension and offense, detached himself from his brother, almost making the other trip from the sudden loss of support behind him.

_ ‘The player he wanted to set for?’ _ His head throbbed, brows drawn, conflicted.  _ ‘What about me?’ _

“Hey—wait—where are you going?” Atsumu faltered just as the spiker exited the stall without another word. “What the hell's wrong with you?”

He really didn’t know?

“Just shut up,” Osamu spat, heading to the shower adjacent to his. “I’m taking a shower in my own stall in case someone walks in and finds us, idiot.” Another lie, dousing himself in frigid waters, hoping it was enough to dissolve the feeling of betrayal.

“So you just came in here to get me all hot and bothered and then leave? What the fuck?”

“Take care of it yourself, you were so good at it in the past, or have you forgotten?”

“Tch, prick, should’ve never come in here in the first place then,” Atsumu grumbled, storming off once he was done, leaving Osamu to wallow in his own self pity. A cocktail of hurt and denial blinded most of his sense, unable to allow an ounce of guilt, not yet at least. He theadered himself to the constant noise of the spray above him, the only thing to keep his emotions in check. Frustrated, he punched the wall, hard enough for blood to ooze from his knuckles. What an idiot he was. He hadn’t meant to punch it that hard, but anger struck him like a hammer, taking over his otherwise rational brain.

What happened to him? He wasn’t usually this impulsive, that was Atsumu’s brand, not his. He was pacific, methodical and analytical when it came to his emotions; kept them in check, not in shambles like he felt right now.

Jaw clenched, he groaned under the spray, hating himself for even feeling this way. Why couldn’t he just let go? Why did he have to hold on so tight? He knew this was coming, he knew Atsumu would eventually find someone else he liked, so then why was it pissing him off so much?

Whoever this person was, whether Hinata or not, would check off all their unattainable boxes like they’d discussed. Right? This was a natural part of their relationship. So then why was it hitting him like a train?

The sight of his brother enraptured by the smaller middle blocker made his chest tighten with something foreign yet so familiar, it made him want to yell, and for what? Taking something he could never have?

_ I’m gonna set for you one of these days. _

Those words. Those damn words kept playing in the forefront of his brain like a godforsaken mantra. He’s sure Atsumu said them without thinking, an impulsive deceleration caused by adrenaline and amazement, but they nailed themselves into Osamu’s chest without remorse, reminding him of how fragile their relationship truly was.

Was he overthinking things? Surely he was, yet, the feelings kept assaulting him, even deep into the night as he stared at the ceiling, Atsumu by his side, fast asleep without a care in the world.

Lucky bastard.

He resented that slumbering face, wished he could give two shits about nothing like his brothers did. Perhaps, it was both a blessing and curse to be this methodical. On one hand, he wasn’t impulsive like his brother, saving him from numerous embarrassments, on the other hand, unwanted thoughts plagued his mind like an infection.

It was starting to give him a headache.

Slotting back into their normal routine was nothing short of a challenge; with finals hot on their trail, school forced them to study nonstop, with nights filled with cramed textbooks and coffee. To top things off, volleyball practice was still a priority, at least to Atsumu, who forced them to work harder than before, which in turn mentally and physically drained Osamu.

He needed a break.

“Gimmy me yer answers, Samu” Atsumu begged, standing tall and lax beside him, wearing one of Osamu’s sweaters like he owned it.

“Yer smart enough to figure it out on yer own,” he’d counter, hunched over the desk, pencil against paper never stopping for a split second. Truth was, Atsumu was very smart, too in their class in fact, his only downfall was his infatuation with volleyball which took up 90% of his brain matter, leaving the rest for the end.

The blonde, animated by noble pride, draped his arms over Osamu’s shoulders, covering his entire back with his front, swallowing the other’s hands with his own.

“What are you doing?” Osamu drawled, annoyed. “Yer getting in my way.”

“You’ve been so mean lately,” he pouted in his ear, tickling his nape with the tips of his hair, wrapping both arms around his neck. “So distant.”

_ Yeah, well I can’t stop thinking about you leaving me behind. _

“Unlike you, I care about school.”

“Oi, I care about school too.”

“Then why are you pestering me?”

“That’s it—“ Using nothing but brute strength, Atsumu spun Osamu around in his chair, plopping down onto his lap like he owned that too, and the spiker had no doubt that he did. With a delicate eye, he watched as Atsumu unbuttoned his school shirt, one by one until he reached his naval, curious fingers grazing his nipples.

“I wanna make you hard,” he admitted in a low, sultry tone, taking one of his brother’s hands and pushing two fingers past his lips, tongue darting out to taste them. Eyes narrowing in interest, Osamu sat in silence, neither engaging nor denying, only observing.

_ I’m gonna set for you one of these days. _

The memory made him inwardly flinch.

“Tsumu, can’t this wait?”

“Since when do you say no to sex?” The blonde teased, clearly not reading the room, taking another finger in his mouth, rolling them with his tongue like a bead. The action made Osamu’s dick twitch with interest, blood pooling with the urge to bend Atsumu over and fuck him senless, but with strain, he refrained doing anything but watch. “I got a lot of homework,” he threw out again, calm and collective, earning a raised brow from the other.

“Then keep doing your homework,” he cooed, palming Osamu through his shorts, working him up and down, purposely ignoring him in favor of teasing his twin.

_ I’ll set for you one of these days. _

_ I found the person I wanna set for. _

“Get on your knees,” Osamu commanded, seizing both of Atsumu’s wrists as rancor worked busy at his heart. “If you wanna have sex so bad then get on yer knees and suck me off while I do my homework.”

“Tch, I’m not your personal blowup doll,” Atsumu growled, snapping out of his clutches. “Why do ya gotta sound so condescending all the time?”

“Because I told you I’m busy with homework and you obviously don’t care. This isn’t some game you can half ass, Atsumu.”

The blonde recoiled at the offense. “Since when do I half ass stuff?”

“Since birth.”

“Fuck you.” He shoved him, rough and raw, stalking off. “Go to bed with a boner for all I care.”

“I knew that was yer plan.”

“What?” Atsumu bared his teeth, whipping around to glare as if he’d been slapped.

“You wanted to get me back for the shower thing, make me hard and then leave.”

The setter scoffed, dark and vindictive. “As if, ass, I ain’t like you. I really wanted to have sex.”

“Since when is oral not sex?”

“Since when did ya get a stick up your ass?”

“Since you interrupted my studying.”

“You sure? Because you've been an asshole all fucking month!” Is the last thing Atsumu threw out before slamming the door to their bedroom, leaving Osamu to fester in his own silence.

He sneered, unbothered, preferring to get his homework done than deal with his horny twin brother, who wanted nothing more than to pester him. In actuality, deep down, Osamu knew his true intentions, the darker ones that loomed under the surface—to hurt Atsumu like his words had unknowingly wounded him.

Head bowed, he gritted his teeth, knowing his brother was right—he was an asshole.

That morning he rose to an empty bunk bed,

Atsumu’s disheveled sheets greeting him like a bucket of ice water. There’s a sting of acknowledgement knowing he caused this, the outcome of his fiery tongue that wouldn’t stop, much like their bickering. Disappointed, he ambled towards the bathroom, blinking the grogginess from his eyes, shocked when he found the blonde dressing himself.

“What?” Atsumu spat, buttoning up his shirt.

“Huh?”

“You’re staring at me like you got something else to say.”

“No, nothing.”

Atsumu doesn’t utter another word, doesn’t even spare a glance as he bypasses him and heads downstairs.

Shit.

It felt like a Cold War between them, both silently engaged in a tug of war to see who would yield first; a clash of nerves, neither wanting to submit, refusing to admit defeat, even at the expense of their relationship. They might be tangled in a twisted, intimate and forbidden relationship, but that didn’t stop them from lashing out from time to time. They were, in essence, still brothers who bickered and fought like normal siblings, and no amount of sex or blowjobs could changed that undeniable fact.

This time, however, Osamu knew he was in the wrong.

So fucking wrong, and he glared at his own reflection, a blank, forlorn look on his face, knowing his brother wouldn't wait to walk to school together, not this time at least.

“I’m such an idiot,” he sighed, gripping the sink, knowing he’d taken last night too far. It surprised him how immature he could be sometimes, even outdoing Atsumu himself, a notorious tantrum thrower.

_ ‘I need to talk with him’ _ , he thinks.  _ ‘Tell him how I feel.’ _ With that in mind, Osamu sets off to school, a little on the defensive, but ready to amend things with Atsumu once school was over.

“What? No Atsumu today?” Rintaro asked, waiting for him by the front gate.

“We got into a fight,” he explained with a shrug, hands in his pockets as they fell in sync. “So he left without me.”

“No way,” Suna whistled, on his phone already. “Maybe he got another girlfriend?”

“Doubted it.” His fists clench in his pockets.

“Why do you say that?”

“He’s too much of a jackass.”

“True, I think you’re the only one who can put up with him, maybe you two should get married or something.”

Osamu knew the offhand comment was dry humor, a staple in Rintaro’s talk, who often said things so matter-of-factly you’d believe them to be true, but it still got a reaction from him. His step faltered, cursing himself for the blunder. At least the raven had the decency to look ashamed.

“Sorry, bad joke,” he mended.

_ ‘Too close, _ ’ he agonized internally, thoughts of Atsumu assaulting his mind even during class. He tried mending things during their shared class together, poking his side a tad. Nothing.

“Tsumu…” he pouted, poking him again. Still nothing.

With no sign of his brother budging, Osamu dropped the case altogether; figured he could apologize once they were in the comfort of their own room. The thought of Atsumu and Hinata plagued his mind again however, reminding him of the familiar sting of jealousy that accompanied his mood like a foul wine, the meal poisoning the rest of his body.

Head resting on the palm of his hand, he paid little attention that morning, looking out the window in hopes of riding his mind of unwanted thoughts and feelings. Though, the more he looked, the more the looming thoughts of uncertainty stalked him, like an ocean wave of troubles despite his best attempt at smoldering them. Then, like a clap of thunder, an awful thought struck him—

Should he look into other people too?

Is that what they should start focusing on? A contingency plan? Finding someone who could fill in the gaps once this was all over? Horrified, he glanced to his right, eyeing a girl who was nose deep in her book, unheedful of his curious gaze. Would someone like her be enough to fill in the gaping hole left by Atsumu?

It doesn’t seem right.

Throughout the day he nursed the painful thoughts, going numb by the time school ended, using anything to distract his mind.

“Osamu-kun, can you and Aiko-chan take these books back up to chem storage room in C-3? We’ll finish up everything here,” the class president asked, breaking him out of his trance; Osamu was taking care of his after-school chores, thankful there was no volleyball practice today.

“Sure.” He nodded, grabbing as many books as he could. “Here—you can put more on mine,” he offered, wanting to lighten the girl’s load as much as he could.

“Thank you, Miya-kun!” She beamed, placing more books on the already impressive stack. “You’re quite strong!” She tacked on once they began their slow tred to room C-3.

“Really? I never noticed honestly.”

“Yeah!” She sounded unsure, not wanting to ramble but unable to stop. “I mean a bunch of guys in our class aren’t that strong, but I guess you're a little ahead of the game since you play volleyball!”

“Guess so.” There really wasn't more to add, so he went quiet, noting how the girl tried walking a little bit ahead of him, not so much to seem rude, but enough so they weren’t right next to each other. He wondered if she was nervous around him, she looked kind of tense, blonde hair swaying as she walked. He didn’t mean to be intimidating, though his silence often translated into intimidation, yet he preferred observing in silence than talking, a deep contrast from his brother.

With this slight gap between them, he noticed her long, blonde hair, how soft it looked as it reached her middle back. Vaguely, he wondered if he should give flirting a chance, after all, Atsumu seemed ready to give in, why not him? 

She was an adequate candidate as the rest, while her blonde hair wasn’t that bad of a deal either.

He preferred blonde.

“Do you bleach yer own hair, Aiko-chan?” He began once she opened the door to their designated room, catching her off guard.

“O-oh, this?” She stumbled, setting the books down and touching her tips. “I mean, yeah, I do them, is it obvious? Does it look bad?” She panicked in place, making him lean against a desk in amusement.

“Nah, It looks good actually.”

“Really…” she blinked, preferring to hide her face by unlocking the storage room. “A-ah a lot of my friends make fun of me for it, they say it looks like a two year-old dyed my hair.” She laughed at her self deprecation, though he knew deep down it probably hurt her a bit.

“Here,” he offered once more, taking the stack in her hand, “how about you hand me the books and I’ll place them.”

“O-okay!”

“And I think yer friends are blind by the way,” he added, placing the final books on the shelves, “your hair looks good to me.”

Her youthful face lit up, a charming smile he’s never seen on her before, cheeks powdered with a dash of red.  _ ‘Yeah, _ ’ he thinks with a strange pang in his heart, ‘ _ this would be enough’ _ .

“R-really?” She stuttered, the light never straying from her eyes as they exit the classroom. “You really think so?”

“Really.”

Then, as they round a corner, Osamu spotted an even flashier shade of blonde, a blonde that made his pulse quicken, one he truly held deer to his heart—Atsumu.

He looked as if he’d been waiting there for them his entire life, body slack against the wall, then lax as he began marching towards them. For a split second, Osamu’s stomach seized, caught off guard by the encounter as his male counterpart neared them with a glare. Without a word, his twin bumped into him, knocking him back a bit as he passed.

“You got a problem?” Osamu spat, anything to keep him from leaving.

“You.” Atsumu stopped mid-step, shoulder squared. “Come with me right now.”

Unamused, Osamu sighed. “My bag is still in class.”

“Go get it and meet me by the gates then,” he finished, turning and stalking off without a second to waste, leaving confusion in his wake as both he and his classmate watch in slight bewilderment.

“Is he mad at you?” She piped in timidly.

“Probably.” He doesn’t waste another second, leaving her behind, mind going blank, wishing he could be by his brother’s side in a span of a second. It’s rude leaving Aiko by herself, he knew—any other day he would’ve performed like the gentleman he was—but today, today he was dangling from a thread, chest heaving as he made a beeline for Atsumu once he collected his things.

“I’m here,” he panted, more out of breath from the fact that Atsumu finally talked to him than the actual run over here.

“Took ya long enough,” the blonde scoffed, already ambling away. “Come on, follow me.”

Follow him? Made it sound like they weren’t going back home.

“Tsumu, listen—“

“Don’t,” He cut in, face unmoving. “Not yet, just wait.”

“Where are we going?”

“Just follow me and shut yer trap.”

“You’re being awfully vague, do you plan on murdering me?” He joked, but Atsumu glanced over his shoulder, unamused.

“I wish,” he bluffed as they synch up next to each other.

“You  _ wish _ ?” Osamu parroted, nudging his brother’s shoulder. “What was that back there?”

Atsumu glanced away. “I don’t know what yer talking about.”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” he reasoned, muscles unwinding. “You were giving us the de—“

“I was jealous.”

He blinked, taken aback by the seamless admission, faltering in his steps. “You were—“

“Jealous, yeah, big whoop, now shut up and keep following me,” he grumbled, annoyed. Afflicted, Osamu closed his mouth, letting the comfortable silence wrap around them both as they venture into the heart of the city. Silently, he envied Atsumu’s ability to wear his heart on his sleeve, to say and show what he felt without second guessing himself. Stating his desires and feelings without feeling the crushing weight of nervousness loom over him—‘I was jealous’—so simple yet so packed.

Deep down he knew, knew that his classmate wouldn’t have been able to fill in any gaps left behind, not her or anyone else who stepped up to the plate. Atsumu was irreplaceable. The simple declaration of jealousy and the mention of discomfort alone was enough to make him not want to consider anyone for years.

Despite this, reluctance plagued him—would Atsumu feel the same way if he mentioned his own jealousy? Would he understand the scalding heat of jealousy burning through his veins any time he brought up Hinata?

Volleyball meant the world to Atsumu, and the last thing Osamu wanted to do was step between his dreams. What he needed to know was where they stood, a reassurance of some kind that he wasn’t being thrown aside just yet.

“What is this place?” He asked once they stopped in front of a coffee shop, the gleaming words—The Foundry—staring back at him.

“Can’t you tell?” Atsumu pried the door open, triggering the reassuring jingle of bells above them. “It’s a coffee shop, I’m taking you out on a date.”

Wait—what?

“A date?!”

“That’s what I said.”

Osamu’s internal mechanisms backfired, rooted to the spot as he stared at his brother, heart in his throat as the words ricochet through his mind.

“I think this is the first time I’ve seen you blush this much in embarrassment,” the blonde noted with a charming smirk. “Excluding that time you pissed yourself in fourth grade.”

“I’m gonna kick yer ass,” he growled, ungluing himself from the sidewalk after a moment of reluctance, entering the establishment with slight trepidation, choosing a booth at the far end by the window.

It was a surreal being here.

“You know what I realized the other day?” The blonde began, chin resting on the back of his hands. “You never took me on a date before fucking me, is that how you treat all of your partners?” He teased, a charming smile nestled between soft cheeks. “What kind of gentlemen are ya?”

“First of all,” Osamu defended, fighting through the blankness in his head. “I've only ever had one relationship that lasted about five months. Second, I didn’t know I had to take my own  _ brother _ on a date.”

“Ah, see that was your mistake.” He pointed a finger, swirling it around. “ _ Thinking _ .”

“You—“

“What can I get for you two?” A male waiter interrupted, pen and pad ready, offering a kind smile as the twins glanced his way. After placing their orders, Osamu sighed in a nervous kind of way, messing with his nails, biting his lower lip.

“Stop doing that.” Atsumu swatted his hands, forcing him to stop. “Yer gonna make yourself bleed like last time.” It was true, Osamu had a nasty habit of picking at the skin around his nails, a nervous tick, one that, if extremely stressed, would cause him to break skin.

“Tsumu…” he began, faltering, looking at his hands. “Why are you doing this?” Guilt swam amongst most of his emotions, the most prominent one out of the bunch. All week he’s been nothing but a jerk—no, perhaps all month, and in his eyes he didn’t deserve this privilege.

“Because I love you.”

So simple, so easy, so beautiful. Heart clenching, Osamu’s lips form into a thin line, a crease perturbing his handsome features.

“Why do ya look so upset by that?” Atsumu grumbled.

“I’m not upset!” He argued, fists clenched. “I just—I can’t—I don’t deserve this.”

“Why? Because you’ve been actin’ like a big ‘ol jerk this whole week?”

“Because I’m selfish!”

The blonde held his breath in admiring silence, processing the painful tide of emotions gracing his brother’s features. He’s really beating himself up over this, wasn’t he?

“Selfish? How so?”

“Because I don’t want to let you go,” he confessed, mouth dry, without missing a beat, as if he’s waited his whole life to utter those words. “I don’t want anyone else to have you, I don’t want to move on from you, I don’t want us to find someone else to cling to—“ It was all said consecutively, an easy stream of words waiting for their turn. “But most of all—I don’t want you to fall in love with anyone else but me.”

Atsumu sat in silence, awed by the hot uprush of words coming from his brother's mouth; his eyes never strayed from him, not even when the waiter sat their orders down, he couldn’t even if he wanted to. Standing quietly, he settled beside his brother, brushing their shoulders together affectionately.

“What makes you think I’d fall in love with anyone else?”

“Hinata Shouyou.”

Ah. Him.

“I’m not in  _ love _ with him—“

“Yet.”

Drained, Atsumu sighed, seizing one of Osamu’s hands from underneath the table and interlocking their fingers. “You can be such an idiot sometimes.”

“Don’t patronize me,” he grounded out, squeezing tighter.

“Listen, what I have for Shoyou-kun ain’t the same type of feeling I have for you, it’s different—it’s a volleyball crush, if that makes sense.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Ugh, yer making this more complicated! A volleyball crush! You know—I just wanna set for the guy, not fuck ‘em or fall in love! I’m not romantically attracted to him...I just thought he was a cool player.”

“That admiration might turn into something else later on, you never know.”

“Stop thinking about the  _ what if’s _ ,” the former chided, knocking into him. “I’m telling you here and now that I don’t feel that way for Shoyou-kun. Why are you trying so desperately to convince me otherwise?”

“Because—“ and he leaned his forehead against the cool surface of the table, heaving a heavy sigh, with the weight of the world on his shoulders. “Because I’m trying to make our inevitable departure hurt less.”

Osmau wanted to prepare himself for their ultimate demise, fix a soft landing for when he was cut down from this dream and forced to fall back into reality. Shouyou Hinata was the bitter pill that made him realize that, even if his brother claimed there was nothing there, even if he wasn’t the player he lost his beloved brother to, he wanted to prepare for the day his heart would inevitably break.

“Yer such an idiot,” Atsumu whispered, glad they chose a secluded booth at the end of the shop so he could lean against his brother's shoulder. “Have you forgotten our slogan?”

Slogan?

“‘We don’t need memories’,” he quoted, sure as could be. “Stop fixating yourself on the past and the future, on what could’ve been and what could come, just focus on the  _ now _ .” And he squeezed his hand to emphasize his point, pressing quick, feather-light kisses on his neck.

Osamu, finally looking up, glossy eyes full of pain, leaned his forehead against his. “I love you, Atsumu.”

The blond snorted, mindful of their surroundings as he nudged into his brother; he wanted to do much more—kiss him, hold him—but in this place, in this moment he could do neither of those. “I love you too, you big loaf.”

And like a gong, the worry in Osamu’s heart dissipates little by little, resonating with the rest of his soul.

“You didn’t have to pay,” Osamu insisted once they were outside, shoes firmly planted on the ground despite the titling feeling of ocean waves hitting him, as if in a dream. “I  _ should’ve _ paid for  _ you _ .”

“Why? Because yer the boyfriend?” Atsumu huffed, bumping into him as they began their slow tred back home.

“No.” He looked at his feet. “Because I was an asshole.”

“You were an asshole for maybe a week, I’ve been an asshole my entire life, so it’s okay.”

“I don’t mean any of it by the way,” the silver head blurted out, halting in his tracks, forcing his twin to mimic his actions.

“Huh?”

“When I call you names and call you an asshole, or that you have the personality of sewage water…I don’t mean any of it, I just need to clear that up.”

“Gee, thanks.” An easy-going smile spread across the blonde's face. “I know. Insults are our dysfunctional way of showing affection, now come on, before it gets too late.”

The sinking sun made mellow gold of the air around them, accompanying them as they walked in comfortable silence, shoulder to shoulder, bodies warm. The raging storm inside Osamu’s mind finally settled into a tranquil drift, breathing a gust of fresh air for the first time after a month of suffocation; like the first trickle of rain after a year-long drought.

“Rain?” Atsumu commented, palm outstretched as a sudden drizzle caught them off guard. “There was no forecast for rain today!” He shouted, taking his brother’s hand, bolting for the nearest shelter, which came in the form of a transparent bus stop.

“Probably an abnormal cloud, look.“ Osamu pointed at the stray cloud burrowed between a clear sky that shone with twilight. “I think it’ll be over in a couple of minutes,” he predicted as they sat down on the bench.

“Hm,” Atsumu hummed in acknowledgment, scooting closer to the furnace that was his brother. “You wanna know somethin’?”

“Hm?”

“I wanna go pro.”

“That much is obvious.”

“I also wanna play in the Olympics.”

The  _ Olympics _ .

Osamu snorted, not because the dream sounded ludicrous, but because he knew Atsumu could reach said dream. As for him…

“What about you?” The blonde asked, watching the rain fall against the backdrop of the golden sky.

“Me?”

_ I want to marry you. _

“I’d like to open an Onigiri shop.”

“A shop?”

“Yeah.”

“What about volleyball?” The other huffed, nudging him harshly. “You gonna leave me alone on the court?” There was real sadness laced in between.

“I love volleyball, don’t get me wrong, I really do. I love the rush and the excitement it gives me, but when it comes down to it, Tsumu, you love volleyball just a tinsy bit more than me.”

Silence sat next to them as they watched the rain taper off into the distance, a warm and red haze surrounding the atmosphere, giving it an ethereal glow.

“It stopped,” Atsumu noted, the ring on his finger catching the light and shining with pride. Tentatively, the silver head reached out, taking his brother's hand and grazing the ring with his thumb. “Has anyone asked who gave it to you?” He asked once they settled in a comfortable pace back home.

“Aran-san did, I told him granny gave it to me.” He laughed as Osamu rolled his eyes. “I’ve been telling everyone granny gave it to me.”

“What about mom?”

“I don’t wear it around her.”

_ ‘Probably for the best.’  _ He knew it to be true, yet deep down a shameful part of him wanted her to find out. The thought is quickly swept under the rug however; eyes going wide as Atsumu, ever the adrenaline junky, hopped on top of a bridge’s capstone, standing right on its edge, arms wide and inviting, as if he might soar.

“Atsumu!” He cried, holding onto his brother's clothes, acting as his safe line, heart jumping in his throat. “W-what the fuck are you doing—get down!”

“Relax, I ain’t gonna jump,” the blonde assured, smiling as though he wasn’t putting his life at risk, eyes gleaming as he took in the scenery—a pink and purple sky glimmering with the last rays of sunshine just for them. “I wonder if we’ll reach those dreams, Samu.”

“Just come down from there, will ya? Yer scaring the shit outta me.”

Atsumu is partially listening though, head murky with thoughts of their dreams and a looming dread filling the pit of his stomach. “I have this feeling in my gut—a feeling that we might not—“

He’s yanked backwards before he could finish his sentence, hands instinctively wrapping around Osamu’s neck as he stumbled against his body.

“Stop talking nonsense and come down from there,” the spiker urged against his neck, arms wrapped around his back protectively, constricting Atsumu with a tight embrace.

“Alright, I get it, I get it,” he conceded, patting his twin’s back. “Ya can let go now, geez, when did you become such a worry wart?”

“Shut up and let’s get home.”

They don’t shower together, despite Osamu’s inclination to; he’s sprawled against his bed face up, letting today’s events glide over him like a gentle breeze—Atsumu claimed his mind, of the swell in his chest, of the guilt for wanting him all to himself. Shutting his eyes—and by miraculous extension, his brain—he sighed into his hand, the door clicked open seconds later, conjuring up a freshly showered Atsumu.

“You ever heard of the Hanahaki disease?” The blonde began, standing at the edge of Osamu’s bunk.

“The Hana—what?” The mattress dipped as Atsumu’s weight settled on it, taking a seat.

“Hanahaki disease,” he reiterates. “It’s a fictional disease that manga protagonists get when they suffer a one-sided affection, they cough up flower petals until they die, unless their beloved returns their feelings, then they’re saved.”

A crease formed against Osamu’s brow, about to commet on how dumb that sounded when the blonde reached for his pocket, taking out a fist full of something. He flinched back as Atsumu blew a bunch of purple flower petals onto his face, shocking him still.

“What the hell? What are these?” He blinked, easing up on both elbows.

“They’re called Heliotrope flowers, weird name, huh? I got some from mom's garden just now.”

“Ya big sap.” The spiker’s lips loosened into a genuine smile. “You can’t have that weird disease—” he explained, taking a purple flower between his fingers, “because I love you back.”

“Maybe they aren’t for ya,” Atsumu teased, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Maybe they're for Shoyou-kun.”

“You little prick,” Osamu growled with a smirk, roughhousing his brother to the bed, pinning him underneath him.

“Take it back.”

“Take what back?” The blonde feigns ignorance, the sweet scent of flowers stolen with each breath as he smiled at the reassuring pressure of his brother against him.

“Take back what you just said or I’ll eat yer ice cream in the freezer.”

Atsumu’s face fell into stern lines. “No the fuck you won’t.”

“Then take it back.”

“Fine—I take it back,” he conceded, without putting up much of a fight. “I was joking anyway, they are meant for  _ you _ .” Their eyes locked, firm and unwavering.

“Better be.” There's a pause before he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss against his brother’s lips, sealing the deal. “There, now you won’t die.”

“I might by the way yer sitting on me, I can’t breath.”

“Oi, you callin’ me fat?”

“I didn’t say that,  _ you _ did!”

“I’ll show you fat.”

“Stop!”

“Stay still!” Osmau ordered as he reached for their drawer, digging through the clutter of things for something. “You got your weird flower disease, we’ll I got this—“

“What is—“

Atsumu’s words fall flat as his eyes land on the object in between Osamu’s thumb and pointer, an item he’s seen as a staple in his mother’s vanity—a tube lipstick.

“Please don’t tell me you plan on making me wear that,” he cautioned, sitting up, hairs stand up on the back of his neck.

“It’s not what you think, I swear, now come here,” the latter beckoned with a hand, uncapping the burgundy lipstick with his thumb.

“What do you plan on doing with that…” Atsumu moves away.

“Just come here and  _ trust _ me.”

So he did, cautiously inching over ever so slightly as he stared at the red lipstick in his brothers hand as if it were a weapon.

“Take yer shirt off,” Osamu instructed next, watching him intently, nagging at the hem of his shirt.

“Where is this going?”

“Just trust me, I’ll take mine off too,” Osamu offered, keeping true to his word and shrugging out of his shirt, Atsumu following suit, bewildered as could be.

“Hand,” the silver head requested, seizing Atsumu’s wrist when he’s met with a bit of resistance. “I’m not gonna kill ya, Tsumu, shit, just watch—“ He brought forth his right hand, using the uncapped lipstick to guide it around his ring finger, leaving a red streak.

“What are you—“

“Just watch,” Osamu insisted, tracing a red line up his arm, past his collar bone, to his heart, stopping there for half a beat, locking eyes, then continuing his work as he trailed down his left arm. The red line continued, until Osamu reaches the tip of Atsumu’s finger and the blonde figures that’s the end of this dumb ritual, until Osamu forced the lipstick in his hand.

“Now, take the lipstick—go on,” he guided. “And do the same to me.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see why.”

Frowning, Atsumu does as he’s told because he loves Osamu, every bit of him, even the peculiar parts. He continued the track, mimicking his actions, leaving a red line up his brother’s right arm, past his chest, resting gingerly over his heart, then down his left arm, maring a red circle around his ring finger just as Osamu had.

“Red string of fate,” Osamu explained without any prompt, interlocking their fingers, making the red lines connected between them in a sloppy circle. “Now we’ll be connected forever.”

“Why couldn’t you just tell me that in the first place instead of keeping me in the blind!” Atsumu chided, laughing in disbelief. “I thought you were trying to summon a demon or something!” He fell against him, chest heaving with a deep laugh.

“Cuz yer confused face was hilarious! I should’ve taken a picture!” He squeezed harder.

“Red string of fate,” he scoffed, eyes closed. “Yer such a sap.”

“What does that make you? Mr I-throw-up-flowers-cuz-my-feelings-aren’t-returned, that’s such bullshit!”

“It ain’t bullshit! It’s cool!”

“Sounds like bullshit to me.”

“Shut up!”

“Die quicker so I can eat yer ice cream.”

“You dick!”

—

“Where is it?” Kyoko Miya mumbled to herself, rummaging through her drawers and vanity hecticly, disemboweling every purse and every makeup bag she owned in search of one missing item—her burgundy lipstick. “I know I put it here somewhere.”

“Christ, it’s like a tornado in here,” Kane Miya said, tightening up his red tie before work. “What are you lookin’ for, hun?”

“My red lipstick—“ she sighed, exasperated. “I swore I had it  _ here _ just the other day and now it’s gone! Puff! Vanished! Like it never existed!”

“Have you checked under the mattress?” He supplied, shrugging into his work suit.

“Yes.”

“The bathroom.”

“Yes.”

“All yer bags?”

“Yes.”

“The boys bathroom?”

“Why would it be in there?”

“Maybe you were busy and you misplaced it without thinking,” he explained, giving himself a once over in their full-body mirror before he headed out. “You’ve been doing it quite a bit lately, misplacing things and forgetting them there, maybe yer finally flying off your rocker?” He teased, earning him a light jab from said wife.

“So funny!” She growled. “I swear if I find it behind the toilet I’m blaming  _ you _ .”

“Me? I wouldn’t do such a thing,” he teased. “Try asking the boys when they get back home from school, they’ve probably seen it laying around.”

Kyoko sighed, hands on her hips as she followed her husband all the way to the door. “No use bothering them, they probably don’t even know what lipstick is.”

“Oh, hun,” Kane lamented, kissing her forehead. “You don’t give them enough credit; they’re not innocent little boys like you think.”

“I know, I know, I’m kidding.”

“I’ll see you in the evening, hun.”

“Bye, love.”

Silence greeted Kyoko Miya as soon as the door clicked closed, the reassuring sound of the lock bringing with it a sense of duty—finding her lipstick no matter what, even if it took all day.

_ ‘That damn thing costs me a small fortune,”  _ she agonized, disentangling all the bed sheets, throwing them in the laundry, checking all her pockets, lifting all the cushions on every sofa, checking under the tables and under the chairs—nothing.

“Where is that damned lipstick?” She frowned, inching her way upstairs to the boys bathroom, though she doubted she’d find anything in there. Sure enough, there’s nothing insight but Atsumu’s dirty boxer laying on the tile floor. She yanked it off the ground with a smack of her lips.

“That boy! I’ve told him thousands of times to pick up his underwear after showering and putting it in the dirty basket,” she complained to herself, entering her son’s shared room, greeted by a somewhat picked up room. Osamu’s bed, as expected, is neat and made, always the early riser, while Atsumu’s bed laid unkempt and haphazardly thrown about.

“That boy…” she clicked her tongue once more, making a mental note to get onto Atsumu’s case once more. Placing his undergarment in the dirty bin, she’s about to walk out when a certain something catches her attention, Atsumu’s drawer cabinet left ajar. Without a second thought, she went to shut the drawer, stopping short when she noticed a hint of material that caught her off guard.

“What?” She blinked, eyes narrowing as she digged for the material, fishing out a pleated skirt—a highschool skirt. “Whose is this?” She wondered, holding the clothing with the tips of her fingers, as if the material was radioactive. Bewildered and horrified, she dug through more, heart pounding, surprised when she uncovered a woman’s crop top and her missing lipstick as well.

Kyoko stood there in momentary confusion, trying to piece together the puzzle that made all three items in Atsumu’s drawer make sense.

What was going on?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a monster chapter to edit, I almost gave up halfway through...but I wanted to come back with a BOOM! And I hope it’s not weird having me back. :)
> 
> As always, seeing your feedback really helps me continue!


	8. Chapter 8

“Osamu, honey, can you come down?”

Kyoko beckoned from the first floor, whipping wet hands against a kitchen towel, Osamu's bare feet thudding down stairs like drums.

“What’s up, mom?” He asked, unplugging an earbud, attentive and ready to obey.

_ That’s my boy,  _ she thinks.

“Can you run to the store real quick and buy me some milk and eggs? I forgot to pick some up the other day and your father won’t be coming home until later tonight.”

There’s understanding in his eyes despite his habitual lethargic nature, a key component that distinguished her boys from each other—Osamu obeyed with little sign of displeasure, while Atsumu, on the other hand, could burst with an array of emotions, surely pulling a groan out of him in this situation.

“Sure thing,” he hummed, plucking the cash from her grasp without missing a beat, trudging back upstairs. “Lemme just change real quick.”

“Thank you, love.”

Dread filled the more remote parts of her heart as Osamu disappeared upstairs, knowing what she had to do next—confront Atsumu about the articles in his drawer.

Different scenarios combed through her mind like a swarm of locusts, screeching and unrelenting in their turmoil; a perfect breeding ground for the frenzy that took root since yesterday morning. The confusion and curiosity that chorused through her mind edged her on, melting with the subsiding anger felt prior. The morning of her discovery was ground shifting almost, despite this, she decided against confronting her son that very evening. Nothing good came out of sharp-pinched anger, only a tangle of ugly words she rather forgo all together. Instead, cooling down and confronting him with a balanced mind might yield better results, she reasoned.

There was only one issue—Osamu.

If Atsumu was keeping something from her, Osamu was surely in on it as well; those boys never kept secrets from each other, after all. Her wonderful twins, albeit loving gentlemen, had grown accustomed to vouching for one another since childhood; their bond ran deep, both as loyal and unbreakable as the laws of physics. It was a natural and integral part of their sibling relationship, something she noticed from an early age, to Atsumu vouching for Osamu when he snuck food into their room late at night, to Osamu bailing Atsumu out of mischievous conduct at school.

It was a seesaw of pros and cons.

They were both an undeniable powerhouse together, a solid defense that fed off each other's energy as efficient as clockwork; a teamwork so viable they could conjure up a believable story right on the spot without any sign of deceit. Because of this, she couldn’t ignore the added difficulty that posed to her confronting Atsumu. Her search for the truth rode on the fact that she’d catch her eldest son off guard, inadvertently flushing out a genuine confession.

“I’ll be right back, mom,” Osamu called out, already by the door.

“Be careful, sweety.”

Separating them was her only chance to question Atsumu at his most vulnerable and willing state—without Osamu.

Over the years, she’s only resorted to such a tactic a handful of times, each time sparser than the last. The knot in her throat made things less pleasant as she retrieved the items from her room. One by one—lipstick, skirt, shirt—placing them all on the kitchen table.

“Atsumu!” She called from the pit of the stairs, forcing the nerves down, concealing them behind a cool mask of authority.

“Yeah?” He answered from the top.

“Can you come down here for a bit, I need to ask you something.”

Seconds pass like grains of sand, each grinding down a slope of glass, finally, she’s greeted by her son’s youthful face, bringing with it an ounce of hesitation, forcing her to almost shy away from the topic altogether. Affected, she locked away the tendency as soon as it sprouted, not entertaining her cowardice, not now. As a mother, it was her duty to care for Atsumu, to show him the right path, that meant facing issues that could deal them a twinge of embarrassment; a necessary confrontation.

“What’s up, mom?” He asked, none the wiser.

“Honey, what are these?”

She witnessed the cogs in his mind freeze upon seeing the items, face going pale from the whiplash alone. The look on his face has Kyoko concerned, scrutinizing him further as she recalled catching glimpses of such a look sparingly throughout his childhood—an unmistakable look of guilt.

“What are these, Atsumu?” She repeated.

The use of his full name gripped him with a suffocating sense of panic, eyes snapping up to meet her’s, only to quickly retract them elsewhere, weighed down by the trouble collecting at his brow. She waited for his reply, something to connect the dots and make her breathe a sigh of relief, yet, there was none.

“I found these in your dresser, Atsumu, whose are they?”

The walls were caving in on him, constricting the very fibers of his soul as she continued to corner him. She might as well have sat him down under a blaring spotlight, cuffed to the chair, no prior warning, no chance of escape, no twin brother to fall back on, no sense of security—an interrogation.

“I—I don’t know.”

“I know you’re lying.” There’s no room for excuses, no playfulness in her tone; hard and jarring, as scraping as rocks. A delicate finger landed on the skirt, yet the weight of such an action felt like an anvil. “These belong to someone and I know you know who they belong to. Don’t try to lie about it, Atsumu, that will only get you into deeper trouble.”

_ ‘Trouble’ _ had him flinching; she observed every movement carefully like a hawk, a skill crafted from years of parenting, committing every insignificant detail to memory. Lips formed into a thin line, Atsumu looked as if he’d caught a glimpse of the boogeyman, fidgeting in place, fighting to steady himself while he raced for the perfect excuse.

“T-they belong to a friend,” he threw out, voice low, tone uncertain.

“A friend?”

“Y-yes.”

Her son was a terrible liar. For all his awards and all his achievements, lying was an Achilles heel for him, and Kyoko couldn’t be more grateful. Osamu, on the other hand, was a bladesmith in the art of deceit, his tongue alone was sharpness itself on said subject, carefully crafting every lie into a fine blade.

“And what about this then?” She clutched the lipstick between her finger tips, noticing her son glance away, almost as if stung by the sight. “What was  _ my _ lipstick doing in  _ your _ drawer?”

“I found it on the ground and I was planning on returning it, but I forgot so I just stored it in my drawer.”

“As opposed to leaving it back in my room?”

“I was about to take a shower and forgot all about it...”

She gave him a look of incredulous disbelief, not buying it for a second and Atsumu could tell as well, he evidenced his discomfort in the slightest bow of his head, tail between his legs.

“Atsumu—“ She willed the anger from her voice, reigning back a semblance of control. “You know you can be honest with me, right?”

This had him glancing up, a shred of hope in a dark tunnel; vulnerability pooling in those honey brown irises, though his tongue felt like led, and he managed a strangled nod.

“And you know I won’t be mad at you as long as you tell me the truth and we talk things through, right? Just admit that you brought a secret girlfriend over when we told you not to.”

Shock jumped to his very eyes—there it was, a way out! Back straightening surely as if he’d been whipped, the realization struck him dead in the head.

“I-I didn’t want to tell you…” he began, voice as frail as a leaf, small little thing.

“Why not? Is she a delinquent? A bad influence?”

He shrugged, unable to meet her scrutiny. “Because we're not dating,” he measured his words, finding it difficult to breathe almost. “She’s just a girl I see  _ sometimes _ .”

“Sometimes?” His mother repeated, a note of disbelief in her tone. “And why did you keep her clothes, Atsumu? Did you bring her to the house despite our rule of _no_ _girls_ while we're not here?” Her tone is an edge away from demanding, causing the blonde’s gaze to drop, deeply ashamed.

“Atsumu— _ look _ at me,” she demanded rather sharply. “You need to stop  _ lying _ to us, and stop whatever— _ this _ is with this girl.” She motioned to the skirt with her finger. “We’ve taught you better than to go behind our backs and lie like this, not only that, but you’re supposed to be a gentleman, not some scoundrel who sleeps around with girls you're not even dating! What will people think? Think of your reputation!”

“Mom, I—“

“Don’t try to lie again, Atsumu, you can’t fool me,” she rasped, an acute note of distress in her voice. “It doesn’t work, I even know you were having sex with Machi, too, despite the morals we’ve taught you—of waiting until marriage. I was very disappointed in you—“ Atsumu seemed on the verge of speaking, yet words eluded him and so his mother continued. “You should be thankful to your father, who talked me out disciplining you. Plus, we knew Machi was a kind and studious girl, a good match for you but  _ this _ ?” She shook the material as if it were cursed. “Going behind our backs, making Osamu lie for you—“

“I didn’t make him lie!” The tumult in his mind found sudden speech, truly enraged now. What happened to talking it out? To listening?

“Don’t start with that, I know you roped him into going along with your plan somehow, that’s how it’s always been in the past, it’s the only reason he’s gotten in trouble thus far—because of  _ you _ . He’s a good boy.”

_ ‘What about me?’ _ Atsumu wanted to yell.  _ ‘Am I not good enough for you?’ _ The thought alone churned his stomach, invoked an urge to vomit because he knew—he  _ knew _ he was not good enough anymore. He’d strayed far from the bright and innocent boy he once was, no longer her pride and joy but something to detest and be repulsed by.

There was no doubt in his mind anymore—if she discovered the truth, the honest truth, she’d disown both him and Osamu, and the realization alone scorched him into oblivion.

Kyoko sighed, noting the look of pain that filtered throughout her son’s face as he gazed upon his feet. She fought the strong urge to cave, to let him go without another word or thought, but she’d fail her role as a parent if she were to do so. Now was the time to be firm and advising so he understood the gravity of his actions.

“Atsumu, dear,” she began, a semitone softer; reaching out to graze his cheek, raising his face to meet hers, “promise me you’re going to stop this.” He strangled a fierce tide of feeling that welled up within him, fighting the stillness of forced composure. “Do not bring girls to this house without permission ever again, especially girls you are not dating. This is my final warning. Focus on your studies, on school, on volleyball, on things that are actually productive. Do I make myself clear?”

He nodded, sullen and defeated.

“Look me in the eyes and promise me you won’t do it again.”

Humiliated, raising his head was a difficult task alone, willing away the burning tears of anger and fear was even harder. The action felt close to having an anvil resting on his head as their eyes hooked.

“I promise I won’t do it again.”

“Good, now take these back to that girl,“ she handed him the clothing, “and tell her what you’ve decided, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, dear, you can go now, I’ll call you for dinner.”

Stricken—with his thoughts in a clamping confusion—Atsumu trudged back upstairs, head hung low as if condemned. With disgust, he dumped the clothing on the bedroom floor before bolting to the restroom. Hastily and with shaky hands, he turned on the water faucet, splashing water against his face to keep the vomit down. His stomach flipped and twisted, gut wrenching as he kneeled in front of the toilet, forcing the muscle contractions down, trembling before his very own demise.

His mother had been so close to finding out the truth, not only that, but she had blamed it all on him, soiling his image even further.

Eyes shut, teeth clenched, he fought to maintain composure, gripping the toilet bowl with the last ounce of control he clung to before diving into a full blown panic attack. Horror sounded off in his mind like a true alarm, thoughts culminating into a single urge— _ come clean _ . He’d come so close to confessing the truth, to laying it all on the table so he could rid himself of this residing guilt that kept swelling inside him the more he ignored it.

_ Osamu _ .

His twin joined the frenzy in his mind, adding fuel to the raging fire as he forced the images down, forced the intimacy they shared away. In this moment, at this point in time, he wished nothing more than to forget those memories, to banish his thoughts and go back to a time where he could stand in front of his mother without feeling like a worthless piece of shit.

_ ‘Good son’. _

He wanted to be a good son again.

Gut wrenching, he jerked his head into the toilet bowl, bringing with it his deepest, most darkest regrets as he spilled his school lunch into the bowl.

—

“I’m back, mom,” Osamu greeted from the entrance, kicking his shoes off and following the smell of food into the kitchen. “Here’s what you needed.”

“Thank you, dear, you can leave it on the counter, I’m going to use it in a bit.”

“Alright—hey is dad coming home for dinner tonight?”

Kyoko turned, fixing her son with an apologetic smile. “He’s going to work late at the office again, might not make it in time.”

“Ah, that’s okay, just wondering. I’m taking a shower.”

“Oh—Osamu, dear?”

“Hm?” He stopped mid-step, gazing at his mother who had this strange expression on her face, one he saw rarely—sternness.

“I’ve spoke to Atsumu about what he’s been doing—“

_ ‘What he’s been doing’? _

Brows drawn, he listened in silence instead of jumping to conclusions.

“I found the skirt and shirt that was in his drawer.”

His blood ran cold.

“We talked it out, and he promised to stop lying to me and your father.” She gave him her full attention, arms crossed between her chest. “I’m very disappointed in him, but not just him, you’ve kept this secret from us as well, haven’t you? You knew Atsumu brought this girl to the house without permission, didn’t you?”

Quickly flinging himself into damage control, Osamu nodded, concerned that Atsumu had taken the fall for him.

“I knew,” he began, fixing his unwavering gaze upon her. “Actually, I was the one who convinced him it was okay to bring her, I didn’t think it would hurt anyone, she just wanted to hang out with him.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Osamu, you know the rule: no girls while we’re not here. Plus, Atsumu isn’t even dating this girl and you let him bring her to the house, even after we forbid him to?”

“Like I said, nothing happened, they just wanted to hang out, and I was there the whole time.”

“Then why did she leave her clothes here?”

“It started to pour outside, we were close by so we waited in here for the rain to lift, gave her some dry clothes in the meantime and I guess she forgot her wet clothes here.”

Kyoko frowned, deep in thought. “Why didn’t Atsumu tell me that…”

“Maybe he was too embarrassed, or maybe he thought you wouldn’t believe him.” He shrugged, watching her sigh, corners of her mouth pinched.

“Whatever the case may be, I don’t want you two going behind our backs anymore, okay? Just tell me the truth and we can talk it out, just like now. No secrets between us, okay?”

“Alright.”

She brought his head down for a kiss; strangely, he fought the urge to wrench away. “I trust you, Osamu, yer the more level headed one of the two. Keep your brother out of trouble and from making any rash decisions. I beg you.”

Lips set in a stern line, he nodded, bolting upstairs as soon as he was released, mind racing with thoughts of Atsumu, face torn. He swung the door open, eyes scanning the area until they zeroed in on his brother, curled up in his bunk bed with the covers over his head.

“Atsumu...” he began, at a loss for words.

“Get rid of them.”

“Wha—“

“The clothes!” The blonde shouted, pointing at the pile on the floor as if it were a corpse. “Get rid of them!”

Osamu knew he shouldn’t argue, knew he should swallow his pride and throw them away without a second thought, yet, the slightest pinch of defensiveness jumped to his chest, forcing him to stay.

“Listen, I talked it out with mom, and I told her—“

“I don’t care what you told her!” Atsumu cut in, disentangling himself from the sheets and pointing at him, eyes marred a deep red—he’d been crying. “I don’t want to look at them!”

“She’s not mad at us anymore, Tsumu,” he reasoned, trying to deflate the situation, watching his brother flinch with anger, shock, disgust? Maybe all three? He didn’t know but he couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out, a last ditch attempt at saving their pathetic relationship. “I told her that it was some girl we hanged out with, it started to rain and she got drenched so we offered her some dry clothes, and she left her’s here by accident—“

“Stop! Stop!” Atsumu barked, measuring his volume, low enough to not alarm their mother, high enough to get his point across. He glared down at his twin, who was the perfect picture of complete disarray. “We have to stop lying to them! I’m sick and tired of going behind their backs and doing this!”

Osamu’s fists clenched at his sides, knuckles turning white, heart in his throat. “I know, I’m sorry—I just—I want us to be okay!”

The genuine admission made Atsumu falter, glare melting into something softer, closer to anguish. “I don’t want to feel this guilt anymore, Samu,” he rasped out, head bowed as he emptied his soul, quickly enveloped in a tight embrace by Osamu, who’s knee-jerk reaction was to climb up there and hold him.

“We have to stop,” he sobbed.

“Wait—Atsumu—please just—“

“For now….lets just—“ he crumbled against his twin’s chest, head resting on his shoulder, body slumped and defeated. “Let's just stop for now, just a little while—please—I can’t deal with this right now,” he begged, vision blurred by hot tears, voice feathery and broken, as if he might shatter into pieces.

Drawing a shaky breath, Osamu nodded mutely, spear driven through his chest as he clutched on tighter, almost as if Atsumu would disappear at the slightest release. This wasn’t what he wanted—he didn’t want to stop making love to his brother, didn’t want to act like there was nothing between them or force the urges down. It’s selfish of him to continue forcing these yearnings onto his brother despite the mental stress he was under, and he couldn’t stand the sight of Atsumu blaming himself.

“I put the blame on me, Tsumu,” he tried when the blonde became a rag doll against him, nothing but shaky breaths against his chest. “She thinks I’m the one who let this happen.”

“Why did you do that!” The former chided, detaching himself. “I was fine taking the blame!”

“It’s not your burden alone,” he answered, steadfast, squeezing his shoulders. “I’m the one who bought you those things, it’s  _ my _ fault.”

Atsumu opened his mouth, a hot refute ready on his lips when Osamu jerked him forward, pressing his body flush against his chest again. “Drop it,” the latter demanded, unrelenting. “What’s done is done, I can’t let you take all the blame, I won’t allow it. Got it?”

Nothing but silence greeted him.

“Got  _ it _ ?” He repeated with more emphasis, wrestling his twin, who tried desperately getting out of his hold.

“I got it, geez,” he grumbled, a deep frown tattooed to his brow, expression falling when a sudden realization dawned on his face. “She did it on purpose…”

“Separate us, you mean?” Osamu suspected, piecing the truth together far too late.

“She knew I was more vulnerable without you, so she sent you to the store and called me down when you left. It felt like I was walking into a trap,” he choked, stopping the stream of fresh tears, playing a tug of war with his emotions. He refused to cry again. “ _ God _ , Samu—I was  _ this _ close to coming clean! I was so fucking nervous!”

Osamu glared at the wall, oppressed by a suffocating sense of misery; knowing their mother, she meant well despite the seed of anger germinating within him, but to separate them like that was...

“Listen, Tsumu, next time mom talks to you alone you need to be more assertive, not to the point of disrespecting her but enough to make our—“ he didn’t want to say it, “lies believable.”

“I don’t want to lie to her anymore…”

“You wanna tell her the truth, then?”

He looked away. “No.”

“Then you must lie.”

A dark silence sat between them, almost to the point of separation, as if his twin were miles away.

“I’m going to bed,” the blonde croaked, voice tired and resigned as he tugged at the bedding.

“It’s still early, you’re not going to eat?”

“Not hungry,” he finished, a tight-lipped reply as he settled into his sheets, back turned. Osamu— reluctant to do so—withdrew from his brother's bunk, a string of uneasiness settling at the pit of his stomach while he drowned in homework. The house felt empty, even as he sat down for dinner with his mother, two empty chairs beside them, one by himself, the other by his mother—they were alone.

He couldn’t stand the sight of it.

Bothered, he muffled the urge to yell at her, glare and bare his teeth at the fact that she was the reason Atsumu was recoiling from him. It was her fault their relationship was going to shit yet again, but he knew better than that, knew his anger was misplaced. He was aware, without an ounce of doubt, that he was the cause of their misfortune. Due to his actions, his ineffectiveness as a proper human being, they were flung into oblivion, his own sickness a stepping stool to their wreckage. There was nothing in the world that could justify his actions, nothing that could free him of sin, and the thought seared him. Blaming his mother was a cowardice move, an easy alternative to blaming himself.

Tonight was the first night, in a long time, they ate in complete silence.

—

“What’s up with you two?” Rintaro commented from his spot on the gym floor, stretching his legs right next to Osamu who mirrored his actions.

“What do you mean?” He questioned, feigning ignorance though he knew exactly what he meant, after all, the issue stuck out like a sore thumb. The tension in the air between him and Atsumu was palpable, cut-with-a-knife thick, a fresh wound they chose to ignore.

“Don’t act dumb,” the winged spiker replied, jaded eyes focused on their star setter who was far from his boastful, egotistic, volleyball loving self, but a shell of the person he once was, droopy and sullen. “You and Atsumu, you’re acting like he’s got the plague or sum’. You’re giving each other the cold shoulder.”

“No we’re not, we’re fine,” he lied because it was easier than admitting the truth..

“Sure you are, and I love social gatherings,” Rintaro shot back sarcastically, getting up from the floor, boring holes into the crown of Osamu’s head. “Look, I’m not sure what shit you got going on between you two but you’re freaking me out. I prefer you guys when you’re at each other’s throats, then I at least know things are normal, but this? This is pathetic.”

Normal, huh? We’re things ever normal?

Despite the tension between them, they work surprisingly well together after a minute or two into practice, forgoing their personal issues for the benefit of the team. Osamu kept his distance though, concerned, hyper focused on Atsumu’s every move throughout practice. It didn’t take a genius to figure out something was off about him, his entire demeanor drowned in it, and the team caught on quickly. Atsumu wasn’t his bright, annoying self, he was aloof and quiet, following orders mechanically, as if in a trance. It carried on like this for a full week, growing so bad that even Kita stepped in and pulled Osamu aside for a talk.

“You don’t have to tell me what’s going on,” he began, wise beyond his years. “I know I might be overstepping my boundary but I want you to know that if you or Atsumu need a shoulder to lean on, you always have me, alright? Don’t think you have to carry whatever you have going on on your own.”

There’s a hand on his shoulder, warm and inviting, and suddenly, Osamu wants to spill everything, let the emotions drain after bottling them up for so long, to kiss his brother in front of everyone and force them to understand that their love wasn’t disgusting, wasn't unhealthy, but genuine and warm.

“Thanks, everything’s fine though.”

Shinsuke searched his face for a moment, seeing right through his lie, reluctant to let go as he nodded with a sigh, stretching his hand for Osamu to take. Later that night, after spending an eternity studying downstairs as opposed to their own room, Osamu entered the dimly lit confinements of their quarters, glancing up at Atsumu who laid on his bunk, back turned. Conflicted, the silver head rubbed his nape, thinking of ways he could transmit their teammates' worry for him.

“You have to start acting more natural, Tsumu,” he began, knot in his throat.

“I am acting natural,” the other grumbled after a moment of reluctance.

Osamu deflated. “No, yer not, yer acting distant and depressed. Everyone is taking notice, even Kita-san pulled me aside to ask me what was wrong.”

“They need to mind their own business.”

“They’re worried about you, idiot! All of a sudden yer actin’ cold and distant towards them—“  _ and me _ , he wanted to add. “Of course they’re going to worry. That’s why I’m telling you— _ start acting normal _ .”

Atsumu stilled, quiet for a whole minute, thinking of a good enough counter attack, yet ultimately falling flat.

“Fuck—“ he groaned, wracking long fingers through blonde hair in a crazed manner. “This is torture!”

The silver head frowned, not daring to move up his brother's bunk, not yet, in case Atsumu’s defenses were still up. “Just calm down, we can work things out.”

“I just can’t stand it!”

“What?”

“I wanna kiss you—so fucking  _ bad… _ ”

His pulse leaped anew, pounding in his ear; the delicious tantalizing sense of love washing through him in waves. “Then kiss me, no one is stopping you.”

“No!” He protested, hunched over, hands over his ears. “I-I can’t! Because if I kiss you I’d want to do more, I'd want you to touch me and I’d ruin everything!”

“Tsumu, yer not gonna ruin anything.”

“Don’t you get it!?” He barked, whipping around, boiling blood burning his face. “We can’t mess up! Not right now, not when mom is watching  _ my _ every move!”

“ _ Our _ every movement,” he corrected.

“Oh,  _ sure _ .” Atsumu rolled his eyes, swatting the air. “She’s watching us alright, but she’s holding a  _ microscope _ against me! Mom’s always labeled me as the trouble child, always expected me to fuck up somehow. She doesn’t pester you as much because yer her favorite!“

“Atsumu!” He snapped, tone sharp. “Don’t say that again, it ain’t true!”

Atsumu’s frown deepened, eyes full of anguish as he closed his mouth. He hadn’t meant it, knew their mother loved them both very much, yet, at times, it felt as though she was ready to watch him fail— _ expecting _ him to.

“You're sexually frustrated, Tsumu, and on edge, I get it, I am too, but you have to start acting normal in front of the team and at school again,” Osamu’s voice brought him back to reality.

“Just in front of them? What about you? Don’t you care?”

Oh, he was turning into a little brat now.

“I do care—I care more than anyone but I also know you need yer space. I’m not gonna force you to act a certain way in front of me, nor am I gonna force you to do something you don’t want,” he explained, falling against the desk chair with a small huf. “But I don’t want to draw more attention to this either, for yer own sake.”

Atsumu peaked at him from above, and by the look in his eyes, he was pouting underneath there.

“Aren’t you scared?”

“Of?”

“Getting caught? Of mom finding out and hating us?”

He spun in his chair, watching the room morph into a swirling haze as he contemplated the answer, trying to sort the clutter in both his mind and heart.

“I’m scared,” he began, still twirling, “don’t get me wrong, but at the same time, I’d be relieved.”

“Relieved?!”

“Yeah, relieved. We’d be hated, for sure, but at least we’d be free.”

“Free? How the hell would that make us free?”

“Because then I wouldn't have to bottle everything up anymore, I’d just be—free. I could love you without hesitation, make love to you without feeling guilty, touch you, hold you,  _ be _ with you.” The world continued to spin despite the chair coming to a gradual half, dazed by the after affects of his constant rotation. There’s a creak from above him and suddenly there’s the twisted figure of his brother, standing firm and tall in front of him.

“You want it too, don’t you?” Atsumu began, wearing Osamu’s sweater over some shorts. “A kiss?”

“I do.”

The blonde looked away, deep in thought. “Maybe one or two kisses won’t hurt?”

The latter patted his lap, mindful of the hesitation in his brother's eyes as he crawled on top of him, arms around his neck.

“Just kissing, Samu, nothing more,” Atsumu emphasized, keenly aware of the fact that they could lose control in a matter of seconds.

“Cross my heart hope to die,” he assured, the hinted sweetness of such a challenge arousing him. He allowed the blonde enough room to make the decision when to press forward, giving him the space to feel comfortable. Last thing he wanted was to scare him off; he even placed a soft and comforting touch against his waist, not around his ass or thighs like he usually did when wanting to be sensual, he was cautious. They were going back to basics, and Osamu couldn’t find it within himself to mind one bit, as long as it meant Atsumu still loved him, he was fine with it.

“What are you waiting for?” The blonde prompted, inches away from his lips, arms hooked around the back of his neck.

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you gonna kiss me?”

The corner of his lips turn up with a hint of mischief. “I’m letting you take control of that, love.”

The pet name had Atsumu blinking, infinitely quiet as he leaned in to press their lips together; the action alone filled them with a sense of warm healing, an intake of fresh air after a suffocating summer. Osamu sighed into the kiss, eyes closing, taking his sweet time to enjoy the warmth between them, willing the sensation away from his groin as he cupped his brother’s jaw, drawing him closer.

Atsumu angled his head sideways, tickling his nose with fibers of hair as he stole his breath with every kiss, leaning in to taste every bit of him he could, chair creaking against them. Osamu groped his waist lightly, enough to please them, not enough to arouse them, though the neglected desire between them was getting increasingly harder to ignore.

“Atsumu, you—“

“Osamu!” The jarring sound of their mother calling him from downstairs paralyzes then both. “Can you come help me with dinner?”

Disappointed, Osamu caught the tail end of a curse about to wedge itself out of his mouth, groaning as he slumped back, annoyed that their mother always interrupted them at the worst of times. She ruined the slight progress he’d made with Atsumu, who, out of fear, scurried off to his own bunk bed as if the floor was made of lava.

“Go before she gets suspicious!” The blonde urged, shooing him away. “And fix your hair, she might get suspicious!”

“Relax, she’s our mother, not some detective on a murder case.”

“Still!”

The tension between him and Atsumu settled around the house like dust, continuing for three months now, and with each passing day, Osamu’s composure crumbled. Atsumu, acting like a frightened pup, reverted back to his no-sex-no-touching policy, while their mother breathed down their necks, slowly chipping away at his sanity more and more. At this point, he was nitpicking, finding the most insignificant reasons to become angry by her, to the way she sliced through vegetables, to the way she called his name from downstairs.

Misconstrued or not, she was the source of his peril, the cause of his stress and the reason Atsumu was so distant and moody. Though, when it came down to it, he knew he was deserving of this punishment. The ugliest part was that Osamu found himself resenting his own parent’s loving relationship, something he could not obtain himself. The feeling festered inside him for days on end, something no amount of food, volleyball or sleep could fix.

It came to no surprise that his self control snapped, like a cornered animal probed in a pin, and the worst part? He snapped at Atsumu himself, though the blonde had it coming.

“Get off the team if you’re gonna play like trash, Samu.”

Biting comments like those were common for them, something he'd often hear whenever he was off his game, and usually, the words slid off like soap on water, but today, the mocking insults had him seeing red. It was a final insult to the pile of dog shit his brother had been spewing that evening, that made him seething on spot.

Composure utterly broken and with a deliberate smack of his hand, Osamu sent the ball straight into Atsumu’s face.

The gym went silent as the blonde tumbled back from the shock alone—shoes screeched to a jarring halt, gasps filter the air, mouths hung open as the only sound left was the taunting bounce of the ball skirting away Atsumu’s wrecked body.

“Why you fucking piece of shit!” The blonde roared, getting up, marching over to Osamu with the full intent of punching him square in the face, bloodlust in his eyes. Luckily for them, their teammates are on the blonde within seconds, keeping him at bay before the argument could escalate to a full blown battle.

Throughout the whole ordeal, Osamu is silent, watching as Atsumu shoved and bared his teeth like a madman. He scoffed, annoyed at his childish behavior, though he was no better.

“You wanna say that to my face, you fucker!” Atsumu growled, trying in vain to reach him through the wall of teammates.

“I didn’t say shit, dipshit!”

“Enough you two!” Kita shouted from somewhere in the gymnasium. “Control yourselves!”

Frustrated, Osamu stalked off, snatching his bag with a violent snap of his wrists, storming out of the gymnasium without another word. He’s had enough. Growling, he attempted to make a beeline for his house, a voice stopping him dead in his tracks.

“Osamu! Wait—“

Kita, Osamu can tell by the tone alone and he almost wanted to ignore it; muscles tense and abrasive. He swallowed his pride and turned around to face his captain, ready for the verbal reprimand.

“Yeah?” He’s unable to meet his gaze, hands in his pocket as he forced the anger down.

“Do you wanna hang out?”

Caught off guard, he does a double take, deflating, not expecting the request in the slightest. Maybe a stern discipline or perhaps some wise advice, but not an invitation to hang out.

“Uh—right now?” He scratched the back of his neck, frowning perplexedly. Wasn’t he deserving of a heavy reprimand for lashing out?

“Yeah, practice is almost done anyway, figured we could hang at my house or something, watch a movie, eat, do some homework, you know, the usual.”

That…actually sounded amazing, but what was the catch?

“What’s the catch?”

“I’m offended you even think that.”

Osamu went rigid. “N-no—it’s just—I thought I was going to get in trouble.”

Shinsuke’s neutral expression softened to one of understanding. “Normally, yes, I’d reprimand you both but I’ll make an exception this one time since Atsumu was taunting you the whole time. Plus, I think it would be fun to spend some time away from home, don't you think?”

So, he wasn’t in trouble?

“Yeah, I’m down.”

“Awesome, let me get my stuff and I’ll be right back.”

Like a commandment, it was set in stone; he doesn’t even bother calling his mother, sending her a text message instead. The idea of notifying Atsumu fluttered through his mind for only a split second, before dropping it all together, knowing his brother was more than likely still seething with anger. Hopefully, by the time he returned to apologize, his brother’s anger would be greatly dimisiones, at least, he hoped.

Disassembled by private misgivings, Osamu hadn’t noticed stress eating alive until he sat in Kita’s room, far away from the burdens of his own mind, relaxed. Slowly, the tension of personal issues seemed distant, allowing him enough leeway to breathe, though the knots in his shoulders remained.

Kita, noticing this, beckoned him over, placing delicate fingers on said mounds of tension on his shoulders. “My mother gets frequent muscle knots due to work,” he explained carefully, so much like Kita. “I learned at a young age to ease the tension away with a massage. She says I’m quite good,” he went on, demonstrating his innate skill, pinching and molding in all the right places, almost drawing a moan from the latter.

“You’re good,” he agreed, melting into the touch, eyes closed in pure bliss.

“You’ve got quite a knot here,” Kita informed, pinching the muscle, making him wince in place. “Something stressing you out?”

Osamu sighed, swaying a tad with the motion of his touch, in a mental disarray. He didn’t want to think, didn’t want to talk or face the demons in his mind, in lieu of showing emotion, all he wanted to do was ignore them for a measly few hours and relax. Could he be granted that?

“It’s okay, you don’t have to tell me,” the older assured, rounding circles on his back muscles, “Just know if you ever want to vent, I’m here for you both.”

_ Both _ was left hanging in the air—him and Atsumu. Atsumu and him. Would Atsumu hate him if he revealed everything?

“Life sucks right now,” he admitted, not meaning to but unable to stop the words from leaping out.

“What’s going on?” Kita questioned with a gentle squeeze of his shoulders, mindful of the fact that he had to pick his words carefully, lest he scare Osamu into closing up again. By observation alone, he could tell that whatever was plaguing his friend’s life was taking a mental toll on him.

“Family issues with mom and dad,” Osamu lied, a knee-jerk reaction when cornered, succumbing to his own cowardice. “They keep fighting.”

“When did this start?”

“It’s been going on for a  _ while _ ,” he said, an image of Atsumu manifesting in his mind, attacking his senses.

“Is that why you and Atsumu have been on edge lately?”

He nodded, silently praying that he hadn’t divulged enough information to seem damming in the end, knowing how quickly his captain could piece together events and timelines, eventually noticing some inconsistencies.

“I didn’t know it was that bad, sorry,” Shinsuke sympathized, withdrawing his hands, going to sit in front of the silver head. “As your captain, I feel as though I have failed you. It’s my duty to pay attention to my teammates wellbeing, not only inside the court but outside of it too. I should’ve paid more attention to your feelings, given you more support and comfort.”

“You’re doing an amazing job, captain, don’t worry!” Osamu assured quickly, not missing a beat. “Inviting me here is more than enough.”

“I won’t rest easy knowing you two are upset, I should’ve invited Atsumu as well, he’s probably taking this the hardest.”

‘He sure is,’ he thought, carefully knitting a way out of dangerous territory. “Atsumu wouldn't have come anyway, he’s pissed off at me since I cucked him in front of the whole team.”

“That was pretty hilarious,” Kita chuckled, supporting his weight on the bed as he leaned back. “He kind of had it coming, he was messing with you like he had a personal vendetta.”

“Right? Jerk thought he could get away with talkin’ shit—sorry.” He knew how his captain felt about profanity, trying his hardest to keep from letting them slip.

“It’s alright, I know it’s a way to let off steam, but you know, you should try fixing things with your brother soon.”

“Why is that?” He entertained the thought.

“Because,” the shorter began, his gaze seemed full of unconquerable hopefulness, “Atsumu is your biggest blessing, the one who has your back one-hundred percent of the time. Even if you can’t rely on friends, or teammates or even family for that matter, you can always rely on each other. That’s very special, I think, a bond that should withstand the test of time. You have to  _ stick _ together.”

Coils in his stomach winding, Osamu let out a suppressed exhale; his captain was correct, and of course the spiker knew better than anyone how much Atsumu meant to him—he meant the world. Despite the moral taboo they were drowning in, the social lines they were crossing, their bond strengthened, and though they suffered rough patches such as these, they always grew from it.

_ Buzz, buzz! _

Like a prophetic sign, an incoming text message from Atsumu himself snapped them out of their trance, bringing with it a sense of normalcy. He fought back the smile that overtook his features when reading his text— _ It was YOUR dish night and I got stuck doing YOUR chores, fucker! _

Charming, absolutely charming.

This was a good sign. While most would interpret the text message to be one of anger, Osamu knew better than to be fooled, deciphering the undertone of hidden playfulness underneath piles of roughness and animosity. Struck with the urgent need to see Atsumu, the latter wrapped his arms around a pillow, imagining the blonde in its stead. He couldn’t throw away Kita’s invitation and hospitality so casually, it wasn’t right, so he settled in and left his worries for later.

Two movies later, after bidding Kita and his family a goodnight, Osamu settled into a brisk walk back home, anxious as thoughts of his brother overtook him. The house is quiet and still when he entered, their parents already settled into their room for the night, only the hum of the heater filled the space as he threaded upstairs. He found Atsumu laying on  _ his _ bunk bed, back turned towards him though he knew he wasn’t asleep. Touch starved, he wasted no time in sliding between the sheets, caging Atsumu with his arms, bringing him against his chest.

“You fucker,” the blonde growled, unmoving as Osamu nuzzled his way into his neck.

“Miss me?” He cooed, daring a feather-light kiss to his skin, feeling the intake of air against his chest.

“Samu—“ he tried to protest, winding his head back, only to be cut off by his brother’s lips on his.

“I missed you,” the silver head mouthed, diving back in as soon as his brother opened his mouth to reply. He didn’t want to hear it, all he needed was to feel and dominate, to squeeze and be squeezed, to enter that crevice that drove him insane.

“Ah—Samu—“ Atsumu groaned when a curious hand snaked its way down to his starving groin, kneading the bulge that was already forming. “S-stop.”

“Were you jerking off before I got here?” Osamu stilled for a split second, brow arched in amusement, cock pulsing.

“N-no!” Atsumu countered, writhing in place, feeling his brother’s own hardness press against him.

“I wouldn’t mind if you were, Tsumu, on  _ my _ bed no less. Naughty,” he mocked, every bit playful, smirking into his skin as he grazed teeth against jawline, lost to his own desire. There was no turning back now, not when his brother was pressed up against him, moving and igniting the flame inside him. He wouldn't stop, even if Atsumu wanted it. “Why don’t you keep jacking off?” He proposed, a scandalous thing.

“What? N-no!”

“Come on, jack off on top of me,” he continued, tracing the outline of his clothed erection. “You don’t want to have sex, right? There’s a simple solution to that—jack off on top of me. It’s  _ technically _ not sex.”

“S-Samu!” Atsumu hissed, enraptured by the idea despite himself. “We can’t!”

“Unless you want me to jack you off?”

“No—I want none of that! I’m leaving—“

“No yer not.” There’s no way Osamu was letting him go, not after the misery they’ve both endured these past few months. He slung Atsumu back onto the bed as soon as he tried escaping, warm body pressed up against him once more. “I’ve got a bad case of blue balls and so do you.”

Shaken, the setter fought tooth and nail against his own desires, screwing his eyes shut. “Take care of it in the shower!” he implored, locking fingers with his brother who tried forcing him to submit.

“Or yer mouth could take care of it,” Osamu shot back.

“You don’t deserve a blow job after the shit you pulled at practice!”

“Who was the one who kept talking shit like there was no tomorrow? Hm, fuck face? It was yer own damn fault.”

Atsumu glared, not a word from his mouth, knowing it to be true. “I ain’t giving you shit.”

“So jerk off like you were doing a couple seconds ago, I’ll watch.”

“You think it’s some kind of show, pervert?”

“It’s the least I get for allowing you to jizz all over my bed.”

“I wasn’t gonna jizz all over it!”

“Then jizz in my mouth.”

Atsumu choked, punching him. “You shameless bastard!”

“The bastardist,” he finished, leaning in to steal another heated kiss; his longing carved out in the deepest of ways, almost devouring his twin. “Come on, Tsumu,” he begged—something he never did—nosing his ear, a ticklish spot. “I know you want it as much as I do. I promise we won’t have sex.”

“Can you really promise that?” Atsumu deadpanned, sighing in disbelief, his resolve chipping away by the second.

“...I promise I’ll  _ try _ not to have sex with you.”

“How convincing,” the blonde groaned, failing to relinquish the heat devouring his groin. “We shouldn’t be doing this,” he agonized, mounting Osamu’s lap despite himself, straddling him, every bit ashamed.

“When should we ever be doing this?” The silver head eased, swallowing the lump of desire rising to the tip of his penis, blood rushing south as Atsumu grazed against his swollen cock, and he pressed up against the firmness of his ass. He watched with bated breath as his twin rubbed his own erection through his sweats, swallowed, grinding against him at a languid pace.

“This is so wrong,” Atsumu panted, eyes closed as he rutted against Osamu, missing the feel of his cock against him— _ Christ _ , he missed it so much.

“It turns you on even more, doesn’t it?” Osamu licked his lips, roping every bit of control he had, rolling their hips together, kneading his brother’s hips with a bruising force. “Come on, Tsumu, stop teasing me,” he hissed, entranced by the lust in Atsumu’s eyes, his arousal wafting in the air like smoke. “Let me see how  _ much _ you missed me.”

“Shut u-up.”

Sticking his hand into his pants, Atsumu dragged himself out, stroking the sensitive bridge of his cock, lip between his teeth, looking away in shame. “This is embarrassing,” he breathed, biting his lip to keep himself from moaning. Osamu’s eyes bore holes into him, captivated by every inch, as if he were a Greek sculpture ready to be praised. He laid there transfixed, his brother pleasuring himself above him, committing every movement and sound to memory—every fraction of an expression, every hitch, every pant, every rise in note—he drank it all in as if it were a feast for him alone. Swallowing, he groaned, the sight and feel making him swell even further, painfully so. Cock fully erect, Osamu rolled his hips upward to relieve some strain, ripping a moan out of Atsumu, who continued to stroke himself.

“Don’t m-move!” Atsumu pleaded, stroking faster, using his other hand to cover his mouth.

“I can’t help it…” Osamu answered hotly, eyes half lidded and full of tension, satisfied when precum spilled from his brother’s tip after he rolled his hips again, fighting off a strangled moan. “Yer close, aren’t you?”

“N-no—I don’t want to—“ he bit back, eyes shut tight, arching his back as he felt hands groping his ass, making an incredible amount of heat pool at his womb.

“Cum on top of me,” Osmau instructed, jaw slack, wanting desperately to squeeze himself between Atsumu’s sex.

The setter faltered, eyes breaking open. “No!”

“Just do it, look—“ and the latter brought up his shirt, presenting a solid canvas for his brother to paint. “I’ll clean it off as soon as you cum.”

“It’s gross..”

“It’s just sperm, Tsumu, I won’t die.”

The blonde grimaced, having no room to argue as he lost himself to his own arousal, continuing his work as he stroked his pulsing cock. With a deep red blush maring his face, Atsumu hit the top, head filled with that familiar euphoric sensation as he tensed up, cumming on top of Osamu in spurts. His brother helped his fantasies by grinding against him, letting him feel the hard press of his erection between sweaty thighs.

“That was a hard release,” Osamu noted with pride, observing Atsumu’s semen all over his chest and abdomen. “You’re still shaking.” Curiously, he dipped his fingers into the milky substance. “Come to think of it I haven’t tasted your cum in a whi—“

“Don’t!” Atsumu flinched above him, mortified as he seized his brother’s wrist, stopping those two fingers from landing on his tongue. “The fucks wrong with you?”

“You’ve tasted mine so much, it’s only fair.” He shrugged, dick twitching underneath the blonde.

“I said don’t!”

“Why won’t you let me taste you?”

“B-because!” He hissed, squeezing his thighs, constricting his brother even further. “Because if you do that—“  _ I’ll get turned on even more _ , “—I’ll hate you forever!”

“I highly doubt that,” the silver head drawled, yanking his wrists away, tongue darting out to welcome his brother’s seed into his mouth. Atsumu tensed against him, mouth quivering with pleasure as he willed his arousal away.

“Tastes like honey,” Osamu sang, smiling.

“Like hell it does, you fucking liar.”

“With a dash of metal.”

“Enough!”

“Tsumu,” Osamu began, quiet as could be, transfixed by the rare order of beauty his brother provided post climax. “Yer really not gonna let me slip in and cum inside you just once? We haven’t had sex in four months.”

“You’re exaggerating! It’s been less that four months.”

“Fine, whatever, it feels like an eternity if I’m being honest,” he grumbled, beginning to rock their hips again, horribly unsatisfied. “You feel me down there, don’t you? How hard you’ve made me? It’s painful.”

“Samu,” Atsumu groaned, heart racing with anxiousness as if it were their first time, licking his lips as the friction intensified. The thought of succumbing to Osamu, who edged him further, like a snake and it’s charmer, tantalized him.

Noticing his brother’s uncertainty, the silver head tried a different tactic. “You know what Kita-san told me today?” He offered, deliberate in his movements as he ran expert hands across the blonde’s thighs, coaxing him out. “He told me we should  _ stick _ together, you and me. You wouldn’t want to disappoint him, would you?”

“Too bad h-he doesn’t know—ah—how much of a pervert you really are, and—“ Atsumu groaned, swallowing a moan. “How literal you’d take it.”

“Is it wrong to want to fuck that perfect ass of yours?” And he took a particular slow drag of his hips, let the other feel everything, causing him to writhe in place. “Just once, please, let me dip my head in.”

“What if they hear us?” He urged between clenched teeth, choking on half moans.

“Let’s sneak out then.”

“Sneak out? And go where?”

“To dad’s car, his keys are by the door.”

Atsumu stilled, suffocated by fear, contemplating the idea and the risks it could pose. All he needed was a little bit of coaxing and Osamu knew just the thing as he flipped them over, caging his brother against the bed, hand over his brother’s mouth as he rested two fingers against his clothed hole, rubbing the area slowly.

“Don’t act like you don’t  _ need _ this, Tsumu, I know you’ve been craving a good fucking.”

“S-Samu!” He pushed against him, raptured by the thrill of it all.

“Unless you wanna wait until mom and dad leave again?”

“Fuck,” he groaned, flinging morality to the winds. “Let’s just go.”

Wickedly, Osamu smirked, huffing with triumph as he rose, locking their fingers without a moment to lose as they tiptoed down stairs after he whipped his chest and put on a sweater. The eerie silence that greeted them on the first floor almost made the setter turn back and hide, forget that they ever agreed to this stupid,  _ risky _ idea and continue suppressing his urges. Sensing his hesitation yet again, Osamu tightened his grip, securing the keys as he unlocked the front door.

“Not so loud!” Atsumu hissed into a whisper once the front door crack open with a strangled cry.

“Not my fault the stupid door is old,” the other grumbled, feeling the cool night air hit them like a ton of bricks. “Shit, it’s cold, lucky we have each other, right?”

“Yeah yeah.”

The atmosphere inside the back seat of the car felt eternal, almost like they were frozen in time almost—unmoving, quiet and cozy to a certain degree. Atsumu, shivering, wrapped his arms around his brother’s neck, straddling his lap for warmth.

“We should’ve brought a blanket, huh?” Osamu noted, seeing their breaths mingle and condense in front of them. “You know, I heard cuddling naked is a good survival tactic.”

Atsumu scoffed, shivering against his lap. “Oh, and I’m sure all you wanna do is cuddle?”

“Maybe squeeze in a little,” he pressed, bringing him close, diving straight for his neck. “Heat you up with my cum?”

“You goddamn pervert.”

“You don’t wanna try it and find out?”

“That’s why we’re here, ain’t it? Freezing our asses off because of our dicks.”

“Yeah, I’m still pretty fucking hard, to be honest.”

“Then let’s not waste time.”

Atsumu pressed their lips together, sighing as he rolled his hips, nipping his brother’s bottom lip after a gasp of pleasure ripped through him. “Atsumu, you—“ Osamu groaned, one hand traveling up his brother’s navel, past his ribs, settling on a perky nipple. “You should ride me.”

Disassembled, the blonde nodded without much thought, kissing and licking his way to his brother’s neck, sucking on the skin while the other nursed his reddened nipple.

“Don’t leave any marks,” Osamu warned, pinching and rubbing with determination, his brother arching into the touch, heart hammering against his chest.

“Do I look dumb to you?”

“I mean…”

Atsumu bit his shoulder, hard enough to make his brother flinch, weak enough to leave no trace. “Keep talking shit and I’ll leave you stranded.”

“Fuck that,” he growled, taking one of Atsumu’s hands and guiding it to his erection, kneading the bulge between his sweats. “I’ve been aching to fuck you for weeks, it’s close to torture how much I want you.”

“Yer exaggerating,” the former grumbled, eyes half lidded, taking him out of his pants easily. Teasing the head with two fingers, he earned a sigh of approval from his brother’s parted lips. “A few months without sex isn’t that bad,” he tacked on, bursting with courage as he worked him up and down.

“It’s torture,” Osamu admitted between clenched teeth, a husky tone; head thrown back in ecstasy as the coils in his stomach wound and compressed, pleasure shocked through him in waves. It didn’t matter how often they fornicated, how well versed they were with each other’s bodies, Atsumu’s hands on his leaking cock always paralyzed him with excitement.

“Fuck—“ he rasped, pushing his hips up into his brother’s hand, desperate for more friction. “Don’t stop.”

“Are you ready to take care of me, Samu? Don’t be selfish,” whispered Atsumu against his ear, teasing him further, squeezing and tugging the tip in a knowing way, aware it drove his twin insane. The strangled moan beside him was enough to make his head spin.

“Shit—“ He was unable to speak properly, mind preoccupied with pleasure, willing himself away from an embarrassingly premature release. “Come here,” he groaned huskily, lifting the blonde just a tad, enough to get part of his joggers out of the way. Taking a pink nipple into his mouth, he sat Atsumu on top of him, penetrating that sweet spot he slipped into quickly and easily, electrifying them both.

“Ah— _ Samu _ !” Atsumu gagged, head snapping back, lavished by the filling sensation that overtook him once his brother was fully in, magnified by their weight. The sudden heat pressing against his intimate parts, prying his defenses open, made him sting with familiarity. “Deeper—“ he begged, clawing at his scalp, arching forward.

“We haven’t done it in a while,” Osamu scraped against his neck, grazing against skin, gaining rhythm with every thrust, like a mantra of pleasure holding onto him possesively. “You might have gotten a little tighter, but I love how good yer body responds to mine, we’re practically made for each other,” he praised, enjoying the cocktail of pleasure and pain riding up Atsumu’s heated face.

“S-Samu—“ Almost fighting against him, Atsumu plastered a sticky hand against the car window, nails digging into his brother’s skin as he rolled his hips, seeing white. “Fuck me right there,” he gasped, using his weight to drag Osamu in and out, hitting that spot that made him writhe in bliss. “T-touch me—ah.”

“Where?” The latter teased, toes curling as pleasure pulsed through with every grueling thrust, edging him in, hot and slick and oh so constricting. Fast, then slow, groaned at the sensation of being milked by his twin, of stretching him open and hearing his whines of pleasure; it was all so addicting.

“ _ Dick _ ,” Atsumu bit out, serving as both an insult and a guideline, seizing Osamu’s hand with a clumsy grip, bringing three fingers inside his mouth, exploring every detail with his tongue. A shiver ran up the spiker’s spine, shooting straight to his penis as the warm sensation of a wet tongue against skin washed over him.

“Don't ever leave me,” came tumbling out of Osamu’s mouth next, not meant to be a growl but manifesting into one regardless. Hesitating against his body, Atsumu stilled, almost shocked. Panicking, the latter wrapped a hand around his brother’s cock, jerking him off swiftly, taking the attention off his words.

“Feels so—“ Atsumu choked, replacing his brother’s hands with his own after he lost rhythm, raising himself enough to allow Osamu to lick and tease his nipple. “So good.”

“Fuck, baby, you feel so good.”

High off pleasure, Osamu continued to thrust in, inch by agonizing inch, feeling every moist petal his brother’s flower had to offer as it grip against him—in and out, in and out—the sloshing sounds impregnated in his ears.

“Fuck, ah—Samu— _ harder _ ,” Atsumu begged, exploring his mouth, growing clumsier, reaching his limit as they rocked the car along with their intercourse.

Osamu felt the setter stiffen against him, quickening his pace, biting down on that supple mound of muscle on his shoulder, causing the other to arch his pretty little back. Sweat doting their foreheads, lips ajar, fingertips and groins on fire, everything literally ablaze as Osamu ejaculated inside of his brother, eyes shut as he devoured him in a kiss.

“Fuck—Tsumu—,” he came with a throaty moan against a slick tongue that wouldn’t stop, shooting his nectar inside of Atsumu like a geyser, sliding up his walls nice and hot. His desperate thrust continued, unbreaking as the blonde curled with pleasure, releasing a gasping moan as he, too, released with a couple of twitches.

Gasping for air, they collapsed against each other, refusing to unbind, a new sense of completion devoured them both. Atsumu made a move to detach himself after a minute or two, stopped by Osamu who kept him anchored by the waist. “Don’t,” he mouthed against his shoulder, keeping him close. “Stay like this.” And then, “isn’t it warm?”

Without much motivation to move, the blonde rested his head against the seat, feeling Osamu buried deep inside him, a strange sensation with the slightest of movements. It was warm. Warm and electrifying, and he hummed with a special kind of note.

“Don’t push me away again, Tsumu,” Osamu begged treacherously, low and almost vulnerable as he held on tighter, for dear life even. “I know it’s scary, I know we shouldn’t be doing this,” he agonized, deeply upset. “I know you feel guilty being with me but—“ he faltered, close to tears. “Don’t push me away ever again. I can’t stand it.”

This was more than just sex, more than pleasure or pent up passion, this was a question, an acknowledged of the neglected gray area their mother left behind since her discovery—are we okay?”

Atsumu sat in silence, body filled with Osamu, mind equally as flooded by him. What could he say? Promise him that he was fine? That he would never push or flinch away again? Because for every step taken forward, they took two steps back, he was aware, but what could he do? Pretend everything was okay? What could mend and suture the deepening gash they made for each other? Could love and lust alone cover the putrid stench of guilt?

“The guilt is eating me alive, Samu,” he admitted with regret, tearing his heart in two with every word, tears standing in his eyes. “What can I do to stop feeling this way?”

The pain tightly rooted inside his brother’s words made Osamu shift uncomfortably, stamped with unutterable sorrow and anguish, feeling oddly disappointed with himself.

“I don’t know,” he confessed, truly lost. “I don’t know.”

Sighing, Atsumu slumped against him, sleep weighing him down. “Let’s go to bed,” he mumbled, forcing himself to move, “we can worry about it tomorrow.”

“...okay.”

Anxiety tortured Osamu throughout the night, sleep eluding him at every corner while he burned holes through the ceiling of his bunk bed, picturing his brother’s slumbering face. Nothing felt right. It never had, and he only fooled himself into believing so. The guilt Atsumu spoke of was killing him, he could see it in his brother’s eyes, in the way they dimmed with each passing day, his chaotic character deteriorated, and the way his shoulder hunched around their parents.

Unknowingly, their relationship was destroying them, masked under love and passion. Yet, the selfishness to keep pushing forward caused Osamu to fall further down the steep slope of self hatred.

The answer was clear.

Truth was, he didn’t want to stop, didn’t want to submit to the pain right in front of them, even if it cost them their lives.

He was selfish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been feeling strange all week.  
> Let’s chat in the comments!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been a while so just to recap what happened in the end of the previous chapter, after having sex in their parent’s car, Atsumu asked Osamu what he could do to stop feeling so much guilt, to which Osamu responded with an “I don’t know”. Hurt, they both went to bed unsatisfied.

_ ‘I don’t know.’ _

The phrase sank deeper and deeper into Atsumu’s skin; the words alone like a splinter stuck between the skin of his forefinger, irritating him with every move. There was no escaping it, the chill that crawled down his bones.

Strange. Everything was strange.

Being home was strange. Eating dinner was strange. Talking to his parents was strange. Intimacy with Osamu was strange.

Mind disemboweled by raging thoughts alone, Atsumu withdrew within himself during class, fingers slippery with perspiration, unable to escape his toiling mind. There was a lesson being taught somewhere in the background, a faintest whisper in comparison to the symphony of dissonance in his mind and soul. His mind was not where it should be, wandering aimlessly in mosh of worries as he stared blankly out the window, right through everything as if objects were made of glass. He didn’t even notice the teacher step out of the classroom for a couple minutes.

_ ‘I don’t know.’ _

That phrase, he hated it. Face twisting into a frown, he groaned, subconsciously messing with the ring on his finger.

“What a pretty ring, Atsumu-kun.”

Turning, he blinked up at his classmate, slightly taken aback by her, a short-haired girl with a nurturing smile, an equally calming gaze as she locked eyes with his ring.

What was he supposed to do?

“Thanks,” he muttered, tense.

“Can I see it?”

_ No. _

“Sure,” he agreed instead, subduing the urge to shield the ring away from her, as if it were a sacred artifact.

“It’s so pretty,” she praised, holding it delicately. “Who gave it to you?”

_ Osamu _ .

“My grandma,” he lied, watching her carefully, ready to pounce in case she dropped it or something; fingers twitching, missing it’s warmth already. She held it up to the light, appreciating it’s appealing glow, ready to return it when a hand snatched it away in a foul swoop. Instantly, Atsumu’s heart sped in alarm, confusion ripening into anger as soon as his glare landed on the culprit, a fellow classmate with the sour reputation of class clown.

“Hand it over,” he demanded, tone impatiently authoritative, eyebrows pinched between each other. There it was again, that strange sensation in his heart, this time, however, it was accompanied by something rotten as it slid down his stomach.

“Aw, did yer granny give this to you, Tsum-Tsum?” The nickname added salt to insult as the guy leered, dangling the ring mockingly like a pair of keys, baiting him. Headache spiking, Atsumu rose to his feet, chair screeching behind him like nails against a chalkboard, fists clenched at his sides. People were staring now, oh, they were staring, but they might as well be flys on the wall as far as he’s concerned. He fixed the boy with a bone-chilling glare, one that could freeze a lake if given the chance.

“I said hand it over, dipshit.” Curt and to the point, tone as abrasive as a punch, planting himself right in front of the guy, towering over him; he’d picked the wrong person to fuck with today.

Sensing his disadvantage, the boy backtracked against an open window, unwilling to submit defeat just yet. Noticing his intentions, Atsumu panicked. “Or what?” The boy mocked, holding the ring out into the cold, open air, making the setter’s blood run cold. “Afraid I’ll drop your precious r—“

Fist connected with a jaw in a matter of seconds—no warning, no signs, only the crack of bone against knuckles as Atsumu bolted towards him, and he didn’t stop either. People were scrambling around him now, like ants caught under the rain, and yet, he didn’t stop, couldn’t stop as he brought his fists down over and over again, caked-on blood against his knuckles with every strike.

A girl screamed somewhere to his right, maybe hailing for a teacher who’d stepped out of the room a few minutes ago. He didn’t give a shit, tunnel vision painted red as adrenaline pumped through him, body numb. All he cared about was the satisfying bounce of the fucker’s skull against the solid floor, pleasing every urge in his body.

This. This was exactly what he needed.

Then, like a clap of thunder, the wind is knocked out of him—he’s on the floor now, wrenched to the side by some punks, the jerk’s friends he guessed, as he shielded his own face from their counter attack. They flung him against the floor with such ferocity, in fact, his left leg popped, taking the brunt force of it all. Cursing, Atsumu threw blind punches at the bodies above him, kicking and defending himself the best he could before a voice broke through the frenzy.

“Stop!” A teacher barked, and the pressure of repeated blows to his face ceased suddenly. He catches glimpses of the jerkoffs being taken outside while he’s left to simmer in the aftermath. A horrid sting. Blood oozed past his nose and teeth, whipping it clean with the back of his hand as he’s whisked away to the nurse’s office, mind tracing the outline of the ring he’d lost.

That familiar pool of anger stirred and churned in his stomach yet again, bringing with it a hot up rush of hatred and loathing.

‘What’s wrong with me?’ He agonized, licking up the blood from his busted lip. ‘Why did I lose my temper so fast?’

Where had it all gone wrong?

Panting, Atsumu clenched his jaw despite the pain, numbed by adrenaline as a mixture of guilt and anger swirling inside him, intensifying his already acute headache.

_ ‘I don’t know.’ _

—

“There’s a new restaurant that opened up called Kary’s I wanna try,” Suna began, eyes glued to his phone as he sifted through their online menu. “It’s by Shunen, you know, that Karaoke place we went to last time?”

Osamu hummed, busy jotting down notes as he went. “We should go try it and swing by Shunens while we’re at it.”

“I don’t even like karaoke,” Suna said, chin resting on the palm of his hand. “Kita forced me to go last time.”

“Captain sure loves karaoke,” he agreed, stretching. “Even though he forces everyone else to sing but him.”

“I think he likes watching Atsumu make a fool of himself.” He snorted, then. “You think he’d want to go?”

“Tsumu? You know him,” Osamu waved a hand, “he loves showing off, and I’m sure he’ll—“

“Osamu-kun!”

A frantic voice sliced through the quiet atmosphere, followed by a beat of silence, one Osamu found himself dreading once he locked eyes with the distraught figure of his classmate. A million questions filed through his mind, all troublesome as he waited for an answer.

“Your brother—“ he panted, making Osamu’s heart drop. “He’s in the infirmary—“

He moved faster than a drop of a pen, bolting from his seat before he could put thoughts into words; not a second lost as he strode out of the classroom and down the hallway, making a bee-line for the infirmary. He didn’t even wait for an explanation, hell, he didn’t even wait for his classmate or Suna to catch up with him.

No, not when there was a single thread of worry processing through his mind right now—make sure Atsumu is okay.

“What happened?” He demanded once he entered the nurses office, eyes trained on the lone figure seated at the far end of the room. Atsumu looked undisturbed, bored in fact, bandages riddled his face as he gingerly touched his own knuckles, nursing an ice pack on his lap.

“Nothing happened.”

“Like shit, look at yer face,” he pointed out, ghosting fingertips over bruised lips, only for the blonde to withdraw immediately. “What the hell happened, Atsumu? Did you get into a fight?”

The scoff from his jaw was enough of an answer, giving Osamu’s suspicious further credence as he took in his brother’s rugged appearance, noting the bandages around his cheek and mouth, to the way the blonde fortified a silent wall between them. Sighing, he slung a chair over, wondering how to go about this; Atsumu was still clearly riled up over...whatever happened, and only seemed to be caving in on himself by the second. It was a tricky puzzle, like walking over a thawing lake at the end of winter.

“Tsumu,” he began, a softer tone, seizing his brother’s hand and interlocking their fingers. “Please, just talk to me, tell me what happened. I’m worried.”

The air around them grew heavier as the silence stretched, Atsumu sorting out the clutter in his mind, working up the nerve to say something. He shifted uncomfortably, as if he sat on thorns.

“I lost it,” he said in a grumble.

“Lost what?”

“The ring you gave me,” he grounded out, squeezing his eyes shut. “That jerkoff took my ring so I beat the shit out of him.”

“Wait, wait, wait—“ Osamu blinked, confused and a little stunned. “What jerkoff?”

“Some stupid idiot in my class! I don’t even know the fucker’s name, I could care less, honestly.”

“He took your—“ and it all clicked once he looked down at Atsumu’s hand, ring missing. “He just took it?”

“Yeah, and the fucker just let it drop out the window like nothing.” The malice in his words could cut diamonds, fists trembling. “I swear to god I’ll kick his—“

“Tsumu, calm down, it’s okay. It’s just a ring, I can get you another—“

“It’s not just a ring!” He barked, yanking his hand away. “That asshole shouldn’t have taken what wasn’t his!”

“I agree but don’t you think you took it too far?” Osamu protested, rubbing comforting circles across his bandaged knuckles. “You risked your well-being, hurt another student, and you might even get detention for this, maybe even  _ expelled _ . What’s worse, coach might bench you, Tsumu. Didn't ya stop and think of the consequences?”

“Fuck the consequences, that asshole had it coming!” He lashed out.

“You’re injured because of this!”

“Who are you, my mom?” Atsumu scoffed, wrenching away yet again. “I don’t need you fussing over me!”

“Take this serious, you—“

“Miya Atsumu, will you look at that,” a dark voice broke through the tension, filling the room with even more pressure. Two pairs of shoulders recoil at the words, the haunting sound of the door opening and shutting closed echoing in their ears, sealing their fate. Atsumu groaned as their coach advanced towards them with what could only be described as withheld anger. “Big boy, huh?”

“Coach, forgive Atsumu, he—“

“Stop. I don’t want to hear an apology from you, Osamu-kun, you did nothing wrong,” Oomi Tarou cut in, razor sharp, locking eyes with the blonde, who gave nothing away. “As for you, you got some explaining to do.”

Atsumu snarled, shoved by Osamu who caught wind of him about to shoot daggers at their coach.

“You really got a nasty attitude there, Miya,” the man continued, equally as intense, if not more, though there was a level of control. “You should be expelled for what you did—no, worse, kicked off of the team for pulling a stunt like that. I got the report from your teacher, you started that fight and you left that boy a bloody mess. Do you have anything to say for yourself?”

“He had it coming,” he growled under his breath, shoved again by Osamu.

“You really are a piece of work, Miya. You’re lucky coach Kurosu vouched for you and got expulsion off the table, he won’t even kick you off the team. You were saved by the skin of your teeth.”

Atsumu’s jaded eyes lingered on his lap, jaw clenched, an eternity of silence oppressing him as the room palpated with tension. Noticing his brother’s lack of acknowledgement, Osamu shoved his head down by the nape of the neck, forcing them both to bow. “We’re very sorry and very thankful, coach.”

Unsatisfied, the man crossed his arms. “Atsumu. Speak.”

Gut twisting, the blonde sucked in a quivering breath. “I’m sorry. Thank you very much, coach.”

“You’re lucky to have a brother like Osamu, Atsumu-kun, by the looks of it, he’s ready to jump in front of a bullet for you,” Tarou finished, scouring the blonde's face for any hint of concern or explanation to his actions. He knew their ace setter was passionate about many things, but not impulsive, so whatever had set him off must have been intense. He’ll give him the benefit of the doubt this time. “Try not to get into more trouble, and if you’re not feeling well you are dismissed for today. Come back tomorrow for your punishment, coach Kurosu and I will be waiting for you.”

With that, their coach shut the door once more, leaving both twins to wallow in momentary silence and after shock.

“You could’ve acted more thankful, Tsumu,” Osamu began, bringing with it a heavy sigh. “Yer gonna dig an even deeper grave.”

“Let’s just go home, I’m sick of being here,” Atsumu said, low and strained, fatigue weighing him down. Not wanting to agitate his twin any further, Osamu decided to drop the issue all together, filing it for later once his anger dissipated.

“Come on then.” He rose, stretching his hand out for Atsumu to take, which he did after a moment of reluctance. “I’ll make us something to eat once we get home.”

“Instant ramen.”

“Really, Tsumu? Ramen? I can make you anything in the world and all you want is instant noodles?”

“Yup.”

“Coach was right, you really are a piece of work.”

As they stand, the limp in his brother's walk doesn’t go unnoticed by Osamu, who glued himself to his brother’s side, forcing him to lean in for support, one arm slung over his neck.

“I can walk you know,” the blonde insisted, holding onto his twin despite himself, a poor attempt at hiding the sting of pain shooting up his leg.

“Does it hurt?”

“Like I said—I’m  _ fine _ .”

“Yer as stubborn as a mule, Tsumu, I swear to God.”

“Ya want me to kick your ass too?”

“I don’t fight crippled people.”

“Why you fucking—“ he flinched at the sudden sharp step he took, wrapping both arms around his brother’s neck for support. “Goddammit.”

“That asshole really hurt you, huh.” He tried to not let the anger leak.

“ _ They _ ,” Atsumu supplied.

“They?”

“It was a group of guys who ganged up on me.”

“Christ.”

“It’s just a sprained ankle, it’ll be healed by tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow my ass, hold up, let me see if I can borrow Sunarin’s bike.”

“I can walk just fin—“ he staggered a little, going rigid against Osamu who looked at him plainly.

“Right,” he mocked, receiving confirmation from the middle blocker via text message a minute later. “You might be seriously injured, Tsumu, it’s best to keep you off that leg for a while.”

Begrudgingly, Atsumu relented with a slight pout and a grumble, holding onto his brother for support until they reached Rintarou’s bicycle. “Hold on tight,” Osamu instructed, adjusting himself on the seat as Atsumu wrapped his arms around his torso, firm as a tree trunk, tucking his head against his shoulder blade.

“Ready?”

A nod. Then, both pairs of feet lift off the ground, one peddling off school grounds while a gentle breeze kissed their cheeks and tousled their hair. Atsumu’s grip tightened, all he could taste was the copper tang of black blood in his mouth, dampening his mood, though the ride home was relaxing; Osamu’s heat and soft breaths was relaxing.

Chancing a glance behind him, the spiker noted how entrapped in his own world Atsumu seemed to be, eyes glazed over and heavy as they contemplated the scenery around him. He looked calm, tranquil even, yet he knew it was a mirage to his real emotions that lied beneath. There was a desire to try and pick at his brain, figure out his thoughts, yet, it was an impossible task without getting spiked by the many quills on his brother’s back. A task he didn’t feel up for at the moment, not when he knew Atsumu needed his space.

He didn’t need a lover or a psychiatrist, he needed a brother, his support.

“Go shower,” Osamu instructed once they entered the house, empty silence since their parents were away for work. “I’ll get the noodles ready.”

“Kay.”

Osamu willed himself to stay calm, all the while convincing himself that holding back was the healthiest route to their relationship; it was better than yielding to his deep rooted desires, to take things further each and every time. Perhaps it wasn’t just Atsumu who was in the wrong, but himself as well. ‘I need to stop being so goddamn selfish,’ he told himself, sensing a certain type of culmination emitting from his brother every time he became more and more unhinged. It was a change Osamu disliked, one that was brought on by his brother’s own guilt and Osamu’s own recklessness.

Something had to change.

“Smells good,” Atsumu said from beside him, making him jump. The blonde blinked, freshly showered, a towel over damp hair and red shorts hugging his hips comfortably. “Did I scare ya?”

“That was a quick shower.”

“It was like twenty minutes.”

“Oh.”

Guess he’d been in his head too long.

“I’m starving, let’s just eat,” Atsumu dismissed the weird atmosphere, already wielding a pair of chopsticks, clearly at a loss for words as the towel cascaded down to his shoulders. After their meal was over, Osamu forced him to sit on the couch and wait while he rummaged through the bathroom cabinets for the first aid kit.

“I told ya I’m fine, the nurse already took care of it.”

“Did she disinfect it though? What about that busted lip? Does it still sting?”

“Everything stings,” he mumbled, smacking his lips when Osamu undid his damp bandages and exposed the inflamed skin underneath, knuckles and lip still red and angry, almost screaming at them.

“You sure are a bloody mess,” the silver head whispered to himself, reaching for the antibiotic cream, spreading some ointment on his scuffed knuckles, “this should help with the pain too.”

“Maybe I deserve it.”

Osamu pinned Atsumu with a warning glance, his silence saying it all— _ don’t be stupid _ . “Those assholes had no right ganging up on you like that.”

It’s the setters turn to remain silent, head bowed. “Samu…”

“Hm?” There is no hitch in his work as he shifts to the next hand, eyes glued to the open skin as Atsumu short circuits above him.

“I’m sorry—“ he flinched, hissing as cotton swab met open wound. “I’m sorry about the ring...I wasn’t able to save it.”

“You sound like you killed my pet hamster or something,” Osamu snorted, reaching for the gauze, “it's a ring, I can get you another one—“

“It’s not just a ring and you fucking know it!” Atsumu protested, steadfast, demanding his sole attention. “It’s the ring  _ you _ gave me and I lost it! Ya can’t just replace it, not when you worked so hard for it! You spent yer savings and I just lost it! First the clothes you bought me had to be thrown away, now I can’t even have my ring. I wasn’t able to keep anything you gave me!”

At this, Osamu stumbled, fighting the urge to kiss him right then and there, to push away all of Atsumu’s painful thoughts with actions alone, yet he knew that wouldn't fix things. Not now. Instead, he sat riveted to the spot, frozen in place as Atsumu finished his tangent. Quietly, and with a grace that could only match a prince, Osamu reached out and brought their foreheads together, sharing the same breath.

“I’ll find it tomorrow,” he promised, messaging his brother’s scalp, feeling him ruffle up like a bird against him. “It’s probably somewhere on the ground.”

“I can search for it—“

“Yer not going anywhere,” he said, eyes narrowing. “In fact, yer not going to school tomorrow either, not until yer leg is properly healed. It might be a minor injury now but if you strain yourself you might make it worse, and then coach will hafta bench you.”

Atsumu glared, shouldering the burden of his own actions, forehead still plastered against his twin’s.

“Don’t give me that look,” Osamu remarked.

“I ain’t givin ya a  _ look _ .”

Pouting, the blonde huffed, staying still as the spiker wrapped the last bandages around his bruised knuckles, patching his lip with a smaller band-aid.

“Mom’s gonna have a heart attack when she sees ya.”

“I gotta come up with a good excuse,” Atsumu said, holding a troubled finger to his chin, deep in thought. “I can’t just tell her I got into a fight over a ring, that’s absurd.”

“Yer telling me.”

“Shut up.”

In the end, Atsumu settled for a half truth, hiding under the ruse of self defense, explaining to her that a group of boys ganged up on him in class after a disagreement. She believed it, knowing her son to wield a knife-like tongue, which, for better or worse, often got him in trouble. She chastised him as expected, grounded him and doted on him the rest of the evening, even gave him ice cream because of his scuffed lip.

It was nice being doted on by her again.

“Yer gonna have to do my chores for a whole week, Samu!” Atsumu claimed from his spot on Osamu’s bed later that night, laying there with his hands behind his head.

Turning on his chair, the silver head deadpanned. “I didn’t know getting yer ass handed to you gave ya brain damage too, cuz I ain’t doing shit for you.”

“Dick move, I’d like to see you fight ten guys on yer own,” he said, rolling on his tummy as easy as it was to embellish the truth.

“Ten guys, Tsumu? Really?”

“Sounds cool, huh?”

“Sounds delusional.”

“Why ya hafta be such a jerk?”

“Quiet you, I’m doing my homework, something you should be doing too.”

“I already finished mine.”

“All of it?”

“All of it.”

“Oh yeah? How’d you manage that? Cheating?”

Atsumu scoffed, earnestly offended. “You think all I do is think of volleyball and fuck around with you?”

That made Osamu falter, pausing as he stared right through his homework sheet, the delicate topic hung between them like a noose. He was quiet and tense, chewing on the end of his pencil whilst fighting the sour taste left in his mouth after last night, not because the sex was bad, far from it, in fact, but because he wasn’t able to console Atsumu like he wanted.

“Atsumu,” he began, tone leaking concern, gripping the pencil with added force, “about last night, what happened in the car—”

“You don’t have to say anything, it’s fine.”

“No, listen, this is important.”

“Alright.” He shrugged, following it up with a sigh. Osamu knew his brothers wanted to push last night's events as far away as possible, but he couldn’t let that fester between them.

“I want to give you space.”

“Space?” The blonde echoed with a twinge of confusion. “Why now?”

“You said so yourself, right? Mom is suspicious of ya and it’s too risky to try anything intimate. Last night I let my selfishness get the better of me, and I forced you to please me when you weren’t ready. I’m sorry.”

“...”

Osamu shifted himself over to his brother, searching his face as their hands found each other, interlocking their digits. A litany of praises ran through his head, each marred with unutterable sorrows.

“I’m sorry, Tsumu. I won’t pressure you anymore, from now on I’ll wait, however long it takes. You’ll have to decide when you’re ready.”

Licking his lips, Atsumu choked on something, fighting a fierce tide of emotions welling up inside him. “Thank you,” he whispered, light as feather, head bowed while the pressure of his grip tightened; an enormous weight lifted off his shoulders.

—

Torrents of rain poured down in a heavy symphony outside the next day, shaking the building with it’s distant thunder. Osamu watched the rain fall outside the window of his homeroom class in a daze, absorbed in a stream of easy thought as the trees rustled about. As usual, thoughts of Atsumu dominated his mind, last night following in tandem, pleased by the thought that they made genuine progress.

Relief flooded his system. ‘Just in time,’ he thought, resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. ‘Maybe I saved us just in time.’

He could only hope. Undeterred, he continued his day with a type of renewed vitality, assured by the fact that if he stayed in line he could make this work. Except, he hadn’t accounted for winter break, not until Rintarou and Aran brought it up during lunch, making plans to hang out during the week they had off.

That week was supposed to be their week, a week of pure indulgence with his brother, though he guessed that was put on hold for now, unless Atsumu got a sprout of confidence and decided he wanted to have sex at least once. He wouldn’t be hopeful about it, instead, he’d distract himself with other things, anything—play video games, work out, go out with their friends—anything to take his mind away from what he couldn’t have at the moment. Winter break would start three days from now, and yet, Osamu already found himself at a loss for what to do.

“Yo, earth to Osamu. You in there?” Rintarou snapped his fingers in front of him, breaking his train of thought. “You coming or nah?”

“Coming where?” He blinked. “Sorry, I kind of zoned out for a bit.”

“I could tell,” the other said plainly. “You thinking of Atsumu?”

_ Yes _ .

“Nah, I was thinking of what I’m gonna eat for dinner.”

“This guy,” Aran huffed, leaning back on his chair. “We just finished lunch and yer already thinking about food.”

He shrugged in response.

“Then you’ll be in paradise at my uncle’s strawberry farm,” Rintarou supplied.

“Yer uncle has a strawberry farm?”

“Yup, and we’re planning on visiting during winter break. You wanna come?”

He nodded, wondering how delicious a freshly picked strawberry would taste, especially since it would be right off the stem. What sold the deal though, was the fact that strawberries were among Atsumu’s favorite fruit, which would serve as a great distraction during the break; the idea was becoming more and more appealing by the second.

“Look,” Rintarou motioned to his phone, showing Osamu and Aran a picture of said farm filled with ripe berries. “That was last year during break as well.”

“He can grow them during winter?” Aran asked, intrigued. “That’s cool.”

“Yup, I'm not an expert on strawberries or anything but I know my uncle has this huge greenhouse that keeps them safe during winter.”

“That does sound cool,” Osamu agreed. “I’m sure Tsumu would love to go, he loves strawberries.”

“It’s settled then,” Rintarou announced, smirking. “I’ll tell the rest of the gang too, and we’ll all go to my uncle's farm during winter break.”

—

“Geez, this won’t make it easier on me.”

Standing at the edge of the school’s entrance, Osamu weighed and outweighed his options, watching as a blazing sky poured down heaps of rain. He had no umbrella. Fuck. He desperately wanted to find Atsumu’s ring though, and after a moment of indecision, he sprung off towards the west side of the building with nothing but his book bag as a makeshift umbrella. Luckily, it didn’t take him long to find the ring, neatly nestled between blades of grass right underneath the window where it had been dropped.

Securing the ring inside his pocket, he bolted for the front of the school, relieved when he spotted his mother waiting for him in the car.

“Yer all soaking wet, honey,” she agonized once he settled himself in the passenger seat, worry knit between her brow. “You didn’t take your umbrella?”

“Didn’t check the weather last night so I didn’t know it was gonna rain,” he said, masking the light shivers running down his body. “I’ve been too busy with homework and practice.”

“Is school stressing you out? How are yer classes?”

“Good, everything’s fine.”

After a couple more standard questions, they settle in a comfortable silence all the way home, Osamu’s eyes glued to the outside, following trails of rain as they glided down the window pane. He twirled the ring inside his pocket, excited to give it back to Atsumu.

“Make sure you change out of those wet clothes immediately, Osamu,” his mother called after him as he rushed up stairs, wasting no time. “I don’t want you getting sick!”

“I will!” He automated, without much thought; getting sick was the least of his concerns as he shoved the door to their room open, startling Atsumu.

“What happened to you?” He asked from his spot in front of the TV, video game all but forgotten as he took in Osamu’s drenched appearance. “Yer soaking wet.”

“This.” The silver head extended his hand in response, holding up the ring between his fingers, watching Atsumu brandish a face full of shock.

“You found it!” He jumped to his feet, eyes wide in wonder, making Osamu’s heart thud loudly.

“Told ya I would.”

“But yer all soaking wet, Samu, don’t tell me you went out there looking for it in the middle of the storm!” He chided, hissing when he touched his brother’s icy hands. “You’re freezing!”

“I don’t feel anything,” he lied, not wanting to ruin the special moment.

“Strip.”

“I—what?”

“Strip, I said,” Atsumu demanded, taking the ring and slipping it on as he wandered over to his bunk bed, yanking out his most velvet blanket. “Get out of those clothes right now before you get sick. All the way down, underwear too.”

“I thought we weren’t going to  _ do _ anything,” he teased, smacked light by the blonde.

“Fuck off and get naked.”

“Alright, alright,” he mumbled, too cold to even bother with implications, and once he was fully naked, Atsumu wrapped him up in his blanket, surrounding him with his infinite warmth. Manhandling him towards the bed, the older forced him to lay on his lap, arms securely wrapped around the burrito blanket with only Osamu’s face poking out.

“There, all better?” The blonde smiled.

“This is strange, I feel like a baby.”

“You are one! You’re my baby brother.”

“Don’t start with that weird shit.”

“Weirder than us?”

He looked away. “Ya know what I mean.”

“Samu.”

“Hm—“

He blinked as a pair of lips shut him up, delicate as flower petals, chaste as they brush up against him. He doesn’t even realize how good it is until he’s chasing after the contact, trying to indulge in it’s sweet candor a few seconds longer as Atsumu looked down at him.

“You’re blushing,” he noted, just as more redness dusted Osamu’s cheeks. “You blush at the smallest things.”

“Shut up.”

“Want another?”

“Yeah.”

His eyes closed as soon as Atsumu leaned in, enjoying the sensation with astonishing care, never taking it further than his brother intended it to, still upholding his promise.

“I guess searching for that ring in the middle of a raging thunderstorm was worth it after all,” Osamu said after they parted, warmth returning to his body.

“Did no one offered to share their umbrella with you?”

“A couple girls did,” he teased, eyelashes lowering. “But I told ‘em I was taken.”

“Like hell you did, you slimy fox.”

“Ouch, that hurts,” Osamu agonized, in mock horror. “I almost died getting that ring.”

“You’re exaggerating!”

“I learn it from the best.”

“Why you little,” he growled, no actual bite to his words. “You should go take a shower and get all that cold water out of your hair. Hurry.”

“Yes, mom.”

A soothing shower was the remedy Osamu’s bones needed, allowing the water’s warmth to take away his troubles and worries down the drain, his muscles unclenching for the first time in weeks. He emerged renewed, spotless and tranquil, diving deep into homework with a renewed sense of direction.

“Look what I found,” Atsumu broke the silence first, showing Osamu his findings—two cups and a string connected to each end.

“Our old ‘walkie talkies’?” He perked. “I thought we lost ‘em.”

“Or so we thought, until—out of sheer boredom—I happened to look in the far end of our closet and there they were.”

“I guess I stored them  _ too _ well.”

“Yer like a squirrel, storing nuts away to eat later.”

Osamu blinked. “You wanna run that by me again?”

“You heard me.”

“Whatever, do they even work? Or did we just pretend they worked back then?”

“Only one way to find out.”

In their youth, the string attached to either end only stretched as far as their bunk beds went, whispering into the cups after hours, still wrapped up in their fantasy world. Now, almost ten years later, nothing much has changed as Atsumu crawled up into his bunk bed, covering himself with the blankets, string pulled taunt between them as Osamu laid on his bed.

“Samu? Can ya hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“You suck dick.”

“Not as good as you.”

“Ya play like trash.”

“Ya look like trash.”

“Hey!”

Osamu laughed, lying comfortably in his own bed as he stared through the ceiling, picturing Atsumu’s smiling face reflected back at him as he held the cup to his ear. He realized then—he wouldn’t change this for the world, wouldn't have it any other way. Atsumu was everything to him, and he wouldn’t give up what they had without a fight. The room filled with an air of extraordinary serenity, the song of a calming thunderstorm taking the space around them.

“Samu, do you think we’ll—“

The jarring sound of shattered glass had them lurching forward, the ends of their hair standing as the sound from downstairs shocked them both. They hear their mother’s muffled voice say something in a panicked haste, adding fuel to the fire.

“Osamu! Atsumu! Come down here!” She yelled, the haunting phrase echoed in their ears. Gut twisting, Osamu moved first, noting his brother’s pale face when he climbed down his bunk.

Atsumu’s mind chorused with fear, going through every negative outcome there was under the sun—she knows, she hates them, she—a pair of hands jerked him sideways—Osamu—he gripped his shoulders, gave them a squeeze.

“Calm down,” he said, sensing the blonde’s inner turmoil, reading his mind. “We don’t know what it is yet.”

Unable to speak, the blonde nodded, finding comfort in those pools of cool grey.  _ Calm down _ , he told himself as they thud downstairs, confused when they stumbled upon the chaotic scene before them. Both their parents were scrambling about gathering things—bag, keys, wallet, coat. Kyoko struggled with one sleeve of her coat, balancing her bag and keys in the other, when she spotted them.

“Your grandfather has been omitted in the hospital just now,” she briefed, hurt and worry wedged between her features, though she tried to hide them. “Get dressed, we’re going to see him right now.”

—

Hospitals were difficult to visit.

Atsumu hated them, despised their pristine white walls with every fiber of his being, loathed their eternal quietude. Pushing the elevator button, they ascended in silence, tensions high, though they slotted their worry to the back of their minds for now, waiting to see what they were up against with their own eyes.

Unwanted memories of Osamu being ripped away from him came flooding back, the little incident throbbing with significance in Atsumu’s mind. They were young, fifth grade at least, and exploring the backwoods of their grandparent’s house, climbing and trudging through dirt and rocks when they happened upon a large ditch. Atsumu made it over, but Osamu hadn’t, suffering fractured ribs from the heavy fall. Atsumu blamed himself for the incident, goading his brother into jumping over the ditch with mocking words despite the danger the rocky pit below posed. After many insults, his twin finally jumped, plummeting to the ground after the soil caved in underneath him in a split second. The next thing Atsumu knew, Osamu was being rushed to the hospital after not being able to breathe properly.

His twin’s haunting cries were forever engraved in his soul, bouncing off the same white walls as the memory loomed behind him like a shadow. Anxiety pricked the tips of his fingers as they trudged forward, the walls constricting him the further they went.

“Tsumu.” Osamu shook him, eyes marked with worry. “You okay?”

_ No _ .

“Yeah.”

The distinct smell of hospital and sorrow wafted all around them, nurses and doctors advancing past them, all blanked faced and worn out, some laughing, very out of place.

Finally, they reach their grandfather’s room and Atsumu swallows, muscles tense as they filter in one by one, the eerie atmosphere enveloping them all. He fought the urge to shut himself off in the corner as they circle his bed, eyes landing on his lax form laying inert on the hospital bed.

A sob broke through the silence, their mother holding his unresponsive hand, though the constant beeping sounds from the heart monitor indicated he was alive. Atsumu glanced at their grandmother, finding her sitting in a chair, almost resigned to her fate, sleepless nights weighing heavy on her eyes.

Was this not the first time?

The jarring clash between their mother’s wails and the fathomless quietud made things worse, uncertainty gnawing at his chest. Atsumu’s only solace was the fact that Osamu stuck by his side, sensing his anxiety and acting as a comfort, interlocking their pinkies.

“Boys,” their mother beckoned, her voice like a twig on the ground, easily broken, making his blood spike. “Come here and hold your grandpa’s hand.”

There was something in her eyes. Defeat? Fatigue? Almost like a silent farewell. Surely it wasn’t so, right?

With Osamu as the lead, they hover over his bed, finding it hard to believe that this was the same man they spent countless hours exploring the woods with, the same man who skipped rocks with them and swam in their kitty pool during summer, the man who gave them caramel candies in secret. He wasn’t supposed to be here, strapped to a bed and pale as a mannequin, he was supposed to be smiling and standing, enjoying their remote home and the countless summers ahead.

Any and all words died on Atsumu’s lips, unsure whether his grandfather would even hear him if he said something. Osamu did much of the same, opting for the silent yet comforting touch of his hand, still warm to the touch.

Two days later their grandfather died.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone had wonderful holidays! Miss me? I missed you guys to death.
> 
> Admittedly, I’m a little disappointed with this chapter, I know I could have done better. But, if everything goes according to plan, next chapter will be my favorite.


	10. Chapter 10

Summer nights were eternal out in the country, all it took was a breath of fresh air to know you were free, and Osamu longed for those days to return.

Their grandparent’s house was the perfect escape, nestled between dense forests and lush hills as far as the eye could see, blanketed by an ocean of flowers everywhere you went. Summers were especially pleasant, with a cool popsicle stick stuck between Osamu’s lips, it was the perfect mediator between a suffocating heat and an enjoyable breeze. Such summers called for endless days spent at the lake, as if him and Atsumu were born with gills. 

Strangely enough, with walls as thin as paper and the overpowering song of cicadas performing well into the night, sleeping on the floor next to Atsumu felt like sleeping on the clouds. On those nights, nothing could reach them, no sense of plight, no pressure from school or volleyball, no homework or expectations, just comfort, family and an endless hue of blue.

It was every child’s utopia—endless exploring, constant adventures, delicious food provided by their granny, and no sense of time. Everything was so vast and open, oftentimes spending most nights under the purple vaulted sky hung with stars. As children, they stargazed with their grandfather a lot, learning the names of numerous constellations and planets, of stories long forgotten written in the sky. Hours bled into seconds, days sped swiftly like the blink of an eye, and it all went by so quickly that before Osamu knew it, they were all grown up and hardly visited anymore.

He remembered the fits Atsumu would throw before leaving their grandparent’s house, making a big scene, declaring his anger for making him leave. Osamu wanted to do much of the same, yet, wanting to be seen as the mature twin, withheld his own tears of disappointment and resigned himself to reality. They couldn’t stay there forever. He traced the memory with fondness, even the bitter moments before they departed.

Bliss. If he had to describe those summers with a single word, he’d call it pure bliss. Nothing but delight rested between those lush green hills and nights filled with cicada’s symphony’s. A time stamped in his memory so perfectly cultivated it was impossible to forget, a childhood many dreamed of, and now, that same home was a dark shell of what it once was.

It was all skeleton and bones now.

With the death of their grandfather came an overcast of dark clouds, both in the sky and above their heads. While their mother descended into grief, her spirit plummeting and crushing them as a whole, days seemed bleak. Summer was replaced by a murky winter, a bone-chilling sight, the fact that such a warm place could be swallowed up by such a frigid plague was jarring. Gone we’re the days of endless fun and vitality, rays of sunshine and golden hues, replaced by the candid truth of a broken family.

“Yeah, we’re gonna be spendin’ the whole break over here,” Osamu said into his phone, Rintaro on the other end as he kicked a few rocks with the toe of his shoe, eyes trained on Atsumu who was skipping rocks by the lake.

“I doubt we’ll be able to go to the city,” he explained, the bristle winter air nipping at his nose and fingertips. “Mom wants us to stay here and spend time with our family, yeah, they’re coming over. Thanks, I’ll tell ‘em—Atsumu?” Golden locks swayed in the foggy air in front of him, filling up his view, watching his brother wound up a particular heavy throw into the abyss. “He’s good I guess, we’re holding up. I’ll see ya after the break, maybe then we can visit your uncle’s farm. Okay, sounds good, thanks, see ya.”

_Click._

Pensive, Osamu marveled at the natural view despite the eerie silence the land had to offer. There were tones of dark green and blue, all shielded by a gray backdrop of fog, as the lake sat on the verge of freezing. The heavy contrast of gray undertones and the golden crown of Atsumu’s head made for breathtaking sight. He took it all in as he sat down on the ground, swimming between unforgotten memories of countless fishing trips and mishap adventures with their grandfather, all immortalized in the soil.

The funeral was….devastating, and without stating the obvious, their mother was inconsolable. It wasn’t due to lack of perception either, after all, she was aware of his age, of the possibility of this happening. No, what hurt her the most, he assumed, was the fact that there was so much left unsaid, something dark and sensitive left in it’s wake. Ever since Osamu could remember, even as a kid, their mother and grandfather never got along, battling with their own issues, and while they concealed most of their arguments from them, he wasn’t ignorant.

Perhaps it was the fact that their grandfather had been ripped away so drastically, without a moment's notice—without letting the dust settle despite there being years of opportunity between them—that haunted their mother. There were no goodbyes or “I love you’s”, no closure for that matter, their grandfather was already gone by the time they made it to the hospital, and the reality of it might have crushed her with guilt.

Which is why they were spending the entire winter break at their grandmother’s house, not only to comfort her, but each other as well, and perhaps to lessen their mother's guilt. Osamu enjoyed what very little solace the landscape could offer him though, almost like he could get lost in it’s trenches. Atsumu was a different story all together, he couldn’t stand being in that house for more than a second, always looking for excuses to go out into the forest or the lake, almost as if he couldn’t sit still. 

Since the funeral, he was fidgety and anxious with a touch of despair, which was to be expected from someone like him, but what caused the most damage was the fact that he bottled everything up, refused to let even him in. Even on their first night here, Atsumu didn’t get a lick of sleep, staying up on his phone until God knows what hour. Their grandmother’s house had no internet or proper connection so Osamu wasn’t sure what his brother was even doing all night, but the prominent eye bags that accompanied him the next morning said it all.

His brother made no verbal confirmation, but Osamu knew he wanted nothing more than to leave. He could tell by the way he moved, ate, slept (or lack thereof), that he was uncomfortable. Which is why they spent most of their time traversing the outside despite the frigid temperatures, exploring familiar trails, visiting intimate spots, rehearsing the old actions of warmer days, like skipping rocks.

“Heyyyyy!” Atsumu screamed into the void, earning an echo in return, repeating the action once more.

“Why are you doing that?” Osamu asked, annoyed by the noise.

“I’m calling out to see if anyone answers.”

 _That’s dumb_ , he thought, eyes narrowing. “Why?”

Atsumu shrugged, then another rock throw—one, two, three, four, five skips. That was impressive, yet there was little to be happy about now. “I don’t know—“

“You wanna leave don’t you?”

No response, only the clench of a rock between his fists.

“I don’t blame you if you do,” Osamu continued, eyes traveling up to the melted sky of grey. “It’s not the same—“

 _Without grandpa_ was left hung in the air between them like an unwanted fruit, both aware of its existence, both choosing to ignore it. They didn’t want it.

“I just…” Atsumu lost his tone, unsure, or perhaps exhausted, maybe both? “I don’t wanna see them like this, mom and granny.”

Crying. Sullen. Drained. It was a jarring sight.

“And what about you?”

“What about me?” The last part was said in a grumble, kicking a rock for emphasis.

“How are you feeling?” Osamu asked.

“How do you think?”

“I can only guess the obvious, but I wanna hear it from you.”

Back turned, Atsumu kicked another rock, as if the ground had cursed him. “Samu, I didn’t see you cry at the funeral,” he answered instead, ignoring his question, gravel crunching underneath him as he neared. They locked eyes for a brief second, until Atsumu bent down to lay his head on top of his lap.

“Neither did you,” Osamu pointed out.

The blond shifted closer, drawing a hefty breath of cool earth, closing his eyes and grabbing one of his brother's hands, trailing it to his hair in a silent request to entwine his fingers.

“I wanted to cry,” he admitted lowly, as if it were a secret for him and the landscape alone.

“So why didn’t you?”

More silence, and this time Osamu’s heart sank with every passing second he gazed down at his brother.

“I don’t know.” The phrase was said through a veil of discomfort, almost as if Atsumu were angry with himself for not knowing the answer. The blonde turned on his lap then, glancing up at Osamu through his lashes, who continued to weave his fingers through his scalp.

“You can cry, you know that, Tsumu?” Osamu said, looking down at him with concern, those brown eyes untrained and dazed as they stared through him.

The blond shook his head, a weak pathetic thing, and instead of answering, brought a curious hand to Osamu’s crotch, stroking him lightly.

“Wha—what are you doing?” The silver head swallowed, flinching as Atsumu began to fondle him through his pants, the familiar tingle of arousal stinging his lower regions, though the feeling was unwanted. It was the first time in Osamu’s life that such an act didn’t feel right, not right now in this time and place. Shame coursed through his veins instead.

“Can I keep touching you?” Came the simple reply from below, as if it would answer any doubts left in the air.

“Why?”

“Because I wanna make you feel good.”

“Tsumu, we shouldn’t do this here.”

Osamu knew he was being hypocritical, after all, he was the first to incite illicit acts in the most unbecoming of places, but this was on a different level entirely. The protest was lost to Atsumu’s ears however, who edged forward, lips parting to mouth his brother’s forming erection, eliciting a grown from the other, who sat in a strange stuper.

Why was Atsumu acting so strange? Trying to please him now? Was this really his twin brother? There was a moment and place for this, even for him, and now—while their family grieved—was not the place nor the time.

“Tsumu, we should—“

“Let me suck you off, Samu.”

“But—“ Osamu bared his teeth, found his voice through the tension, taken aback by this version of his brother. “You don’t really wanna do this, do you?”

The blonde licked his lips, messing with his pant zipper, continuing to tease him through his pants with his mouth and tongue. “I do,” came the breathy reply, unzipping Osamu’s pants as he lifted himself a little, enough to take him in his mouth easily, lapping and slurping at his head, jerking out a moan from above.

This continued on for a couple agonizing minutes, Atsumu’s wonderful mouth and tongue swallowing his growing cock, while the coldness of a swift air hit the open spots his brother could not cover. Osamu’s hand entangled itself in his golden hair, watching him swallow in more, all happening in the blink of an eye. It was all confusing and short breaths; it seemed unreal, a dream or perhaps a nightmare, as shame worked busily inside him. One second they were close to having a heart-to-heart conversation, the next, his brother had him in his mouth seemingly out of nowhere. The jarring transition from one to the other was strange, foreign and deprived all in the same breath; he didn’t know whether to like it or hate it.

Vile twisted in his stomach, confirming the latter.

“Let's do it,” Atsumu said, saliva trailing from the plush of his lips to the tip of his brother’s cock, raising his eyes to meet Osamu’s own, who noticed his brother’s brown irises were stone cold, nothing but emptiness there.

“What?”

“Lets have sex,” he explained, giving his twitching head a few more excruciating licks, “you’ve been holding back, right? Because of me? Let’s go have sex in that old spot in the woods we use to hang out a lot as kids.”

Concerned, Osamu drew the line there, knowing Atsumu was acting out of character—wrong, distant, detached.

“No,” he said. “This isn’t what you want, Atsumu.”

“Yeah, it is,” he dragged, aggravated. “Come on, let’s go.” He stood, expecting Osamu to follow, blinking when nothing changed. His frown doubled. “I said come on!” He shoved him lightly with his foot. “I wanna fuck, let’s go.”

“No.”

“No?” Atsumu choked in disbelief, voice tethering close to rage. “Since when did you become so abstinent?”

“Shut up, Tsumu. I’m not going along with whatever you wanna do and that’s final.”

“Why not?”

“Because I know it’s not what you really want.”

Atsumu blinked, a reflection of wrath and betrayal in those cold pools of oak. “How can you tell me what _I_ want when I’m fucking telling you exactly what I want!”

“Because I can see it in yer eyes, you don’t really wanna do this.”

“I do!” He growled, almost yelled.

“Who are you trying to convince? Me or yourself?” Osamu bit back, slightly ruffled. “All you wanna do is ease your pain by pleasing others, when I know you don’t really wanna have sex with me, you just want a distraction.”

“Isn’t that why we have sex? To distract ourselves!”

“No.” Osamu flinched, wounded by the words. “I don’t use you like some toy as a type of distraction, asshole. I do it because I love you.”

Tongue twisted, Atsumu stood there, fists clenched. “Whatever,” he scoffed, storming back towards the house without another word, leaving nothing but disaster in his wake. With a heavy sigh, Osamu closed his eyes and leaned back, hissing as a cold gust of air seeped through his open zipper. Fixing his pants, erection already lost, anxiety breached the worst part of him. Shit, there was nothing worse than cucking himself right in the dick, but the outcome outweighed the losses, putting a stop to Atsumu’s self-destructive tendencies was necessary. His twin brother could be such an idiot sometimes, and Osamu was so close to giving in, too, but the uneasiness in the pit of his stomach wouldn’t let him.

Sighing, he allowed the anxiety to fizzle out on its own little by little with the aid of Jackasuke, their grandparents' dog, who laid his head on Osamu’s lap in a comforting way, almost knowingly.

“Thanks, Jack,” he whispered, petting his head, a great weight lifted from his chest. “You always know how to cheer me up.”

A jumble of thoughts and images jostle for attention—Atsumu’s bottled up emotions, their mother, their grandmother, the funeral, the situation at hand, their own personal issues. Taking all of it into consideration, it’s no wonder Atsumu cracked under pressure. His beloved brother was a fish out of water when it came to expressing his emotions or coping with them in a healthy way, and most of the time, it led to them fighting. Volleyball was Atsumu’s usual stress relief, but seeing as how his regular outlet was not an option, relieving stress had to come in another form. Unfortunately for the blonde, his idea of stress relief, albeit viable, couldn’t have come at a worse time.

Any other day, Osamu would have gladly given him what he wanted, after all, a bit of stress-relief fucking does the mind, body and soul some good. Yet, out of respect for their family and their grandfather, having sex here added more salt to the wound, especially in this place, with the eyes of their past on them.

There was a time and place for that, and though Osamu was an exhibitionist at heart, he knew now was not the time.

Begrudgingly, he lingered by the lake, tucking his emotions back in place before heading back, rubbing Jackasuke’s belly until his hind leg kicked. Turning on the path that led home, he watched the somber scenery pass him by, calmed by an eternal quietude of memories.

What he wouldn’t give to go back to those days.

“Where's Tsumu?” Osamu asked once he entered the living room, spotting his father perched on the couch, reading a book. Come to think of it, this is the first time he’s seen his father planted in one spot, without the tiredness of work weighing him down.

“He stormed off in the bedroom, I believe,” came the static response, not a look or glance straying from his literature. “Did you two fight again?”

“Not really,” he said, already heading for the hallway when his father roped him back.

“Osamu, don’t forget yer family is coming over tomorrow—“

 _Your_ family? Why not _our_ family?

“—yer aunts and uncles are coming from a long distance away, so let’s welcome them warmly, I don’t want you two wandering off on yer own or shutting yourselves in yer rooms, okay?”

He nodded, soured by the fact that he had to be lectured like some child, as if he’d never shown an ounce of hospitality in his life. Yet, he made no move to voice his thoughts, finding it quicker to just agree and be on his way. Dismissed, Osamu quickened his pace, the scent of citrus invading his nostrils as soon as he entered their bedroom, spotting the blonde lying on the floor, shoji door open, staring at the wilted garden.

“It’s too cold to have that open,” Osamu began. “Don’t you think?”

“I don’t care.”

“Are you still mad?” Is his next question, taking a seat next to his brother and helping himself to an orange slice.

“That’s _my_ orange.” Atsumu glared at him.

“Stop being so selfish and angry all the time.”

“I ain’t selfish or angry!” He seethed, though his tone suggesting otherwise.

“You look mad.”

“Well I’m not!”

With a tired sigh, Osamu manhandled Atsumu into a headlock, forcing him into submission by caging him in with his arms and legs, immobilizing him.

“What the fuck are you doing?“ Atsumu squirmed like a worm, trying desperately to break free from Osamu’s stronghold.

“Just calm down.”

The request, inturn, had the opposite effect on him, seemingly inciting something ravenous inside of Atsumu, who bucked and growled like a caged animal ready to be devoured. Osamu, using all of his strength to keep his brother at bay, let him spend all of his adrenaline and energy, mesmerized by how wild and savage his brother could be.

“I’ll kick yer ass, Samu! I swear to god, I’ll fuckin—“ Ill phrases continued to be flung out every which way as Atsumu reinforced his verbal barrage, coupled with a hot and violent skirmish, one that Osamu found himself struggling to keep up with.

“It’s okay to cry!” The latter heaved, implored it really; hissing when Atsumu’s elbow dug into his ribs. “It’s okay to—ouch!” Wincing, Osamu groaned as teeth sunk into his forearm, making him tighten his hold around his twin like a boa constrictor. “You don’t need to shut yourself off around me, Tsumu,” he tried once more, his brother freezing against him. “You don’t have to hold it in anymore, you can cry.”

Engulfed in nothing but silence, Atsumu’s shoulders shook, head sinking, a soft imitation of profound sorrow. His teeth are still clamped down onto Osamu’s flesh, but they held little to no pressure as unwanted tears stood in his eyes. He didn’t want to cry. Not when he worked so hard to remain strong, not when the fear of being unable to stop loomed over him. Caving in on himself, the first sob broke through his defenses and Osamu squeezed him tighter, nosing the back of his head.

“I’m so stupid,” Atsumu growled between tears. “Why am I always so stupid?”

“Yer not stupid. Dealing with pain isn’t easy.”

“Oh, yeah? Then why are you so goddamn collective? Why am I always the emotional one?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is!”

“It’s not! Stop doing that to yourself,” Osamu corrected, arms circling his stomach now. “Stop hating yourself for things that are natural and out of your control. Stop comparing yourself to me.”

Hot tears blurred Atsumu’s vision as they interlock their fingers, softening the world around him, ducking his head in shame. Throat raw, he couldn’t utter a single word even if he wanted to, afraid his voice might crack under pressure. Instead, he took Osamu’s advice, cried until his lungs heaved, all while still being held by his brother, his other half, his pillar for better or worse.

Somewhere along the line, between the huffing and puffing, the tears and growls, Atsumu twisted around to bury his face in Osamu’s neck, protective arms embracing him as months of pent up frustration, depression and anxiety tumbled out in a theatrical display of sorrow. Atsumu was an ugly crier, at least he believed himself to be, but his twin brother made him feel like everything but—he was an irreplaceable murale nestled inside a warm, breathing museum.

It was corny how romantic they were being, downright intolerable and sappy to its most anatomical level, yet, Atsumu wouldn’t have it any other way.

“There, do you feel better now?” Osamu asked against his forehead, inhaling his calming scent.

Atsumu, lulled by the heavy outpouring, nodded, nose and eyes red as he continued to seek shelter within his brother’s embrace. “What about you?” He mumbled. “You didn’t cry?”

“Hm,” the latter hummed, squeezing tighter. “I have other ways of relieving stress.”

“Other ways? What—oh.” It clicked in his head, uncharacteristically coy all of a sudden, then asked, “Do you wanna—uhm, you know?”

“No, not here, it’s better if we wait. Plus, I don’t wanna have sex with you if yer not in the mood,” he explained, laying on his back, Atsumu followed suit, both staring at the ceiling. “I want it to be mutual.”

“It is mutual.”

“Ya know what I mean.”

“Samu?”

“Hm?”

“I didn’t mean what I said back there, about sex being only a distraction.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t mad at you either.”

“I’m glad.”

“I love you.”

That made his heart swell with an ounce of relief.

“I love you too.”

—

Stirred by the sweet song of a morning bird, Osamu groaned against a blanket of warmth, Atsumu stuck to his side with an arm slung over his torso, a leg thrown between his own. It was a surprisingly tame position for the catastrophic sleeper that was Atsumu. The cold probably drew him in, made him huddle against a warm body for comfort. Whatever the reason, Osamu fought the urge to stay and sleep with him forever, knowing he had to find their mother and help her in the kitchen.

As soon as he moved to get up, however, insistent arms tightened their hold around him, and though Atsumu was still very much asleep, he didn’t let go.

“Tsumu,” Osamu whispered, moving wayward strands of blonde hair out of his face, endeared by his light snores. “I have to get up.”

“Don’t go…” he mumbled in his sleep, a trickle of saliva past parted lips.

“I gotta help mom.”

“Hmm,” Atsumu groaned, face twisting in displeasure as he lifted the pressure off his waits.

“I’ll call you when breakfast is ready.”

Osamu had half a mind to brush his teeth in the morning, still groggy since it was still fairly early, around 6:30 AM, close to 7 AM maybe, unsure without looking at a clock, though he could vaguely make out the time by the way the sun’s rays seeped through the house in a lazy manner. Thoughts of his family invaded his mind while he gargled, of aunts and uncles he hadn’t seen in years—and now they were all visiting today. Anxiety filtered through the more remote parts of his body, though there was a strange and anxious excitement there too, one that was soured by the occasion.

Undoubtedly, this pressure was crippling their mother, who’d received the brunt of the collapse; he’d noticed it in the way she looked, how she carried herself or when they brushed shoulders in or around the house. Her signature smile was gone, replaced with stern lines and dead eyes, small conversation all but diminished, and though she attempted to wield and armor of strength, they all knew what was lying underneath. Knowing this, Osamu decided to wake up early to help around the house or prepare food for the family, whatever she needed, he’d be there to lighten her load.

Jarringly, as soon as he set foot near the kitchen the pungent smell of cigarette smoke struck his nose, delivering with it a shot of confusion. Cigarette smoke? He blinked, taken aback by the stench and filth, finding his mother perched by the table with a cigarette stuck between her chapped lips. An old habit of hers, one that was cut off before they were born, or so he was told.

Back slouched, shoulders taunt, there was this deep brooding resentment to her, something that boiled and blemished underneath the surface as the room diffused with smoke and tension. She must have realized he was there, after all, her head lowered as if aware, through shame and disappointment.

Heart stuck in his throat, Osamu wanted nothing more than to leave, the image of his mother in complete disarray haunting him. His legs, however, wouldn’t move, as if cemented to the floor, mind paralyzed in equal amounts of confusion and alarm. The sight of her terrified him, so broken and hopeless, something he’d never witnessed before.

“Osamu,” her voice broke through the smoke, making him flinch as she beckoned him with her eyes. “Sit.”

There was a strong inclination to turn away, a feeling he swallowed deep down into the most remote parts of himself as he inched forward, taking a seat next to her and staring ahead with cation. Overshadowed by a vague depression, Kyoko inhaled, her tiredness evident in the slow drag off smoke, releasing only after she shifted in place.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this, baby,” she began, voice rocky and hoarse, almost from misuse, or perhaps from crying, he wasn’t sure. Osamu shook his head as if on instinct, unsure of why he did so, unable to find his voice.

“I haven’t smoked in years,” she noted, twirling the cigarette in her hand as if she’d just noticed it. “It’s a nasty habit yer grandpa detested, and when he found out I smoked he almost beat me half to death.” There was a misplaced laughter, a weak thing that sounded more wounded than mirthful. “Yer grandpa and I—well, we—you know we didn’t have the best relationship,” she said, almost skirting around the subject. “I was the troubled child in a family of six.”

There was a stamp of silence, a heavy and unpleasant sensation between them, forcing Osamu’s eyes on her—she didn’t look like his mother at that moment, but a woman who’d been broken. “I was neither the oldest, nor the youngest,” she continued, taking another drag of smoke, “and I always resent my father for never paying attention to me. I loved him, don’t get me wrong, he raised us the best he could but—“ she faltered, voice quivering with unresolved wounds deep enough to bleed out. “But I wished I could’ve gotten some type of closure before he passed.”

It was a difficult truth to admit, he could tell by the way her words pitched in volume at the end, to the way she cut herself off in a desperate attempt to compose herself, ultimately failing as fresh tears fell. Chest tightening, Osamu closed the distance between them, securing her in his arms in a silent show of comfort. It was all he could do.

“I wanted to tell him that he hurt me! But I also wanted to apologize for hurting him in return!” She went on, unheedful of her weakened voice, hands covering her face as if in shame. “I was a troubled child but I still had feelings, I still mattered and I felt as though I could never stand out amongst my siblings, and it hurt me so much! So much that I left and I stopped talking to him, I stopped loving him and I started hating him—and now? And now he’s gone and I won’t ever be able to connect with him again!” It’s a flourish of emotions bursting at the seams, emotions Osamu knew she couldn’t stop even if she wanted to.

“I wanted to move on! I wanted to love him without resentment, I want to be the daughter he was proud of…and I was working up the courage to do it. After years of running away, of letting it simmer,” she sobbed, dropping the bud to the floor and burying her face in the palms of her hand. “I wanted to close the gap between us.”

There was nothing more to give, nothing more to add that hadn’t already been poured out or left hung in the air. They both knew how the story ended, how her journey to reconciliation was cut short without a moment's notice. “I guess it was my fault too,” she finished, emotionally burned out. “There’s nothing more I can do now.”

This was her letting go, allowing herself to cry and breathe for the first time since the funeral, or perhaps, in her entire life. The scars of emotional and mental anguish were still red and tender, perhaps they may never heal properly, yet, as Osamu held her, he couldn’t help wonder if this was the start of recovery, as bleak as things may seem. Atsumu was so much like her, inheriting that harmful tendency to bottle things up until they exploded with raw emotion.

“You’re healing, mom,” he said. “It’s okay to let it out.”

She squeezed her eyes tight, leaning against the solid frame of Osamu, who silently tended to her, allowing her to pour everything out.

“Please don’t be like me, Osamu,” She said, breaking the embrace to look up at him. “Don’t hesitate. If you want something don’t let time pass, you grab it with both of your hands and don’t let it go. You’ll end up regretting it if you do.”

His mind wandered over to the sleeping form of his twin brother, of the impact her words had on him exactly. Osamu wondered if she’d feel the same if she knew the extent of his darkest desires, of the inclination he and Atsumu were brooding. Nothing was as simple as it seemed, and though he wanted to admit the truth, he knew the perfect time would never come, especially not now, with such a deep wound burning on the surface.

“And don’t let Atsumu stray too far from you, okay?” She continued, as if reading his mind. “Over the years he’s gotten more rowdy, independent and more inclined to trouble. I feel as though one of these days he’s going to surprise me with something dreadful, that boy.”

“Mom, he’s not a troubled child,” he defended, knowing how much Atsumu seeked their parent’s approval, more fervently than even himself.

“I know, I know, but I can see myself in him sometimes, and it scares me. I see him making the same mistakes I did and I—I just don’t want him to do the same. That’s all.”

“He wants to make you and dad proud.” It was the truth, and Atsumu deserved the recognition; he was working so arduously for it, after all.

There’s an unmistakable drop in her features, as if the mere mention of it awoke an internal conflict in her mind. “I’m proud of you both,” she assured, an almost eerie presage left hung in the air. “I know I can count on you boys to keep each other safe, but I also know that Atsumu needs a little more guidance than you. Please guide him well,” she finished, palming the side of his face. He wanted to refute her claim, tell her—no, in fact, it was the other way around. Half the time, Atsumu was the one keeping them in check, and hadn’t not been for him, who knew where they would be. Yet, Osamu lost hope in her ever realizing that since she’d unwittingly marked him with an x, stuck on the idea that he was the troublemaker.

The fact was disheartening.

He wanted to add more, give his two cents on the matter, but looking at the current situation, decided against it. They had time for that in the future, now he wanted to focus on helping her. With that in mind, they prepare breakfast together, working as a unit, and even after breakfast was done, they continue their work. While Osamu and Kyoko prepare a feast for their expected family, Atsumu and Kane took charge of the cleaning. 

“You don’t have to do anything, granny,” Atsumu assured their grandmother, who was up and trying to help. “We got this.”

She relented in the end, taking Jackasuke out for a walk and leaving the rest to them. Osamu was so engrossed in his own work, that he didn’t realize the time until he heard a knock at the door, signifying the arrival of their family. Before he knew it, his aunts and uncles were flooding the living room, most still somber, suffering the after effects of such a loss. Yet, for every ache there was a warm embrace, all ready to comfort and rebuild one another. Every family had its flaws, Osamu’s was no different, but when push came to shove they had one another.

It was something he could be proud of.

“Go get your brother,” his mother whispered in his ear, turning quickly to attend to their guests. Nodding, he wandered over to their room, finding the blonde flat against the floor, face up, setting a volleyball above his head in rhythmic intervals.

“Families here,” Osamu announced.

“I heard them.”

“Then why don’t you come and greet them?”

Atsumu caught the ball between the tips of his fingers, the feather-light touch of a setter as a crease formed between his brow. “We haven’t seen them in years,” he noted, leaving the rest up for Osamu to decipher.

“Yeah, I'm nervous too,” he agreed, ambling over and sitting next to him. “But it's not all that bad, aunt Yui’s here with her two-year-old daughter, Itsumi, she’s so cute.” It was an overt tactic at drawing out his brother, aware of the fact that Atsumu had a soft spot for children. Surprisingly enough, children took to Atsumu like paint on a canvas, and more often than not, flocked to him happily. Perhaps it was the mutual playfulness they shared that drew kids to him, or the fact that they couldn’t tell the difference between a literal child and Atsumu. Whatever the case, Osamu hoped the promise of chubby cheeks and cute baby eyes were enough to coax him out of his shell.

“Itsumi is here?” He perked. Gotcha. “I’ve only seen her in pictures.”

“Yeah, she’s here and she’s super cute.”

Atsumu, toiling with the knowledge in his mind, stood, rolling something in his mouth, which sounded awfully like hard candy.

“What ya got there?” Osamu motioned to his mouth.

“Grandpa’s caramel candy,” he said. “I found the whole stash while cleaning.”

Ah, so that’s what affected his mood earlier, the memories.

“Can I have one?” Osamu asked, licking his lips.

“Here, I got more.”

The cold press of a candy wrapper against his palm wasn’t enough, not for him, not when his eyes were already set on the candy between Atsumu’s lips. “Not that one,” he said, and angled his head to seal their lips, entering his mouth easily with a push of his tongue. Atsumu was almost pliant, body tensing against him in tandem, though he was very responsive, groaning against the kiss. Somehow, they ended up on the floor again, Atsumu practically on top of Osamu’s lap as the latter explored his mouth with care, in search for something sweeter than the candy between their tongues.

“Touch,” Atsumu begged between moans, seeking comfort in the form of his brother’s hand against his chest. He squeezed, rewarded with a groan.

They were getting carried away, Osamu knew this far too well, and he had no one else to blame but himself. Their entire family was a few steps away and yet, here they were entangled with each other like nothing was wrong. Atsumu’s body was hard to ignore though, especially when it begged for more friction, and the needy sounds escaping his mouth didn’t help either. If they didn’t stop now, however, Osamu wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop at all, or hide the growing problem between his legs. Both were unfavorable.

 _‘Control yourself,’_ he urged, breaking the kiss with a reassuring smack, caramel candy in his mouth. “Delicious,” he said, brushing a thumb across his brother’s swollen lips.

“You dick…” Atsumu growled, wiping his mouth of any residue.

“I just wanted a taste, what’s so wrong?”

“Taste my ass,” he grumbled, side stepping him, “let’s go.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Osamu began, once they fell in sync. “Tasting your ass, that is.”

The blonde choked on air. “Just go!”

As predicted, little Itsumi took to Atsumu as well as a bee to a flower, refusing to unbind herself from his lap as soon as she was placed in his arms.

“There's something about Atsumu-kun she likes,” their aunt noted with fondness in her tone, watching her baby daughter bounce up and down Atsumu’s lap with the help of his hands. “Must be the dandelion head of yours.”

The laughter heard afterwards was filled with light and warmth, surprisingly easy to accept as the family continued to talk and share stories of their father, enjoying each other's company as if it were the last day on earth. The calm atmosphere helped lift the stress off of Osamu’s shoulders, who, along with Atsumu, sat on the couch listening to their aunts and uncles discuss different things. He focused on the way his brother played with Itsumi, how he tickled her and made faces that caught her attention.

“You look great with a kid,” Osamu admitted in his ear when one was looking, leaning in to brush up against him—a subtle thing—without drawing too much attention.

“Wouldn’t you like that?” Atsumu scoffed, leaning their little cousin against his shoulder, rubbing her back as she played with his hair.

“I’d love that actually,” he agreed, placing an inconspicuous hand on his brother’s knee and squeezing. “Wouldn’t it be nice to have a family, hm?”

He could tell by the way Atsumu blinked at him that the cassette tape in his head stopped, either too flustered or shocked to come up with any of his usual comebacks. Sensing his discomfort, Itsumi rose from her spot on his shoulder, locking eyes with Osamu who stared straight back, equally as unfazed.

“Ack!” He groaned, receiving a fist full of baby fingers to the face, making Atsumu holler with laughter.

“Looks like someone is jealous!” The blonde cooed, scooping her up in the air, making her smile wide and bright. “You want all of Tsumu’s attention all to yourself, dont’cha?”

“That hurt,” Osamu groaned, rubbing his nose while seeking Atsumu’s sympathy. “Kiss it to make it better?”

“You ain’t injured.”

“It hurts though.”

“Suck it up then, ya big baby.”

Without so much as a hitch in atmosphere, the steady stream of easy talk continued throughout the day, and well into the night as a matter of fact. A sense of completeness in the otherwise despairing tension felt throughout the house that weekend. It was a refreshing change in ambience, an almost slower and lighter pace, one that Osamu found himself indulging in quite a bit, so much so that it felt odd once their family departed. They’d spend the better part of the week together, all congregated in that humble home nestled between soft hills and lush forests, basking in mutual solace.

For a split second, things reverted back to simpler times, times of content smiles, of calmer days and careless joy. Back in the heyday of their childhood innocence, where there was no wrong or right, and Atsumu flourished in his surroundings. Good times were temporary however, and once their family parted there was a noticeable loss in warmth. A loss that Osamu compensated for by clinging to Atsumu the rest of the break, even when they were packing to head back home.

“Osamu, Atsumu, come here,” their mother beckoned from the living room, settled in despite the urgency to get back home. “I’m going to be staying with granny for a while,” she explained, clutching their hands between her own, as if begging for understanding. “She’s not doing so well right now, and I’m afraid of leaving her alone.”

“We understand,” Atsumu spoke up first, an order of maturity to him. “Take yer time helping granny, we’ll take care of the house.”

“My lovely Atsumu,“ she praised, squeezing his hand, “you’ve grown up so fast.” A pinch to his cheek had him groaning, the usual pampering he secretly adored, though he never outright said it.

“Can I count on you two to take care of the house and each other while I’m gone, then? You know yer dad has a lot of work, and won’t be there often.”

“We got this,” Osamu said, determined to lighten her load, and through the resolution came the automatic drip of anticipation.

Atsumu and him were going to be alone.

“Thank you, I love you both.”

Their first week alone was relatively calm and uneventful, following standard procedures and protocol—wake up, eat breakfast, go to school, volleyball practice, shower, homework, sleep—repeat. Normal, standard schedule. The further into the month they traveled, however, the stronger the smell of tension, coupled with a hint of sweetness, grew. They walked on an intoxicating fine line, one they were both hyper aware of and skirting around, almost timidly so. They’ve replayed this song far too many times to not know any better, and yet, they both waited, coming to a silent agreement—no messing around until they knew their parent’s schedule like the back of their hands.

Their father's schedule was the easiest to gauge since it was heavily predictable—work in the morning, only to come back home after long, grueling office hours, which usually meant at around 10 PM on most nights. Their mother’s schedule was harder to work around, extremely unpredictable and fluctuant on most days, yet, while her untimely visits altered, they were always accompanied by a phone call prior.

“Why haven't you touched me yet?” Atsumu asked one night whilst they shared a bed, turning back to lock eyes with his brother, who squeezed his waist, taking his time to indulge himself in pleasing admiration.

“I told you, didn’t I? We’re going at your pace,” he explained, nosing his nape. “Yer calling the shots.”

Patients was key. It was a notion he stood by, tousled with at night when his desires ran rampant. _‘Never again,’_ he told himself, rehearsing the silent promise to stop being so goddamn selfish when it came to Atsumu’s love. They had an ample amount of time to work out the issues, to focus on strengthening their bond and ease Atsumu’s mental health, which had been taking a toll.

Over the next few days, his twin brother loosened up more, a glimmer of the old Atsumu shining through. Osamu was sure that the shift in personality came due to having the house all to themselves most of the time; having no parents around as a constant reminder of what they had to conceal was a weight off their shoulders, a welcomed shift in atmosphere at that.

On occasions, he’d catch Atsumu glance at him randomly, eyes unfocused, lips parted in expectancy, though nothing ever came of it, not yet, at least. Undeterred, Osamu waited, locked between the jaws of patients and morally askew yearnings. Even when he awoke to morning wood every single day without fail, he waited, allowing the tension to build up inside himself and Atsumu, who was close to succumbing as well.

The chess pieces were aligning perfectly on the board, all strategically set to yield an outcome in both their favors. Now, it was a question of patients, of endurance and precision; a waiting game Osamu refused to lose. This time around, he’d let the sly fox come to him, a more gratifying and dangerous game, one which, if executed properly, granted a reward as exquisite as the holy grail. 

“I’m not wearing any underwear.”

A bold declaration without a doubt, one that few admitted to so openly, especially in front of a group of people, more specifically, a group of young teenage men whose main artillery was armed to the brim with nothing but ridicule. Yet, Atsumu, like everything else about him, defied the predetermined laws set out before him, and would even defy gravity if he could, with so much as a smug tilt of his chin.

“Shit, Miya,” Rintaro spoke up first, snapping Osamu, and by extension, the rest of the volleyball team out of their trance, who were all cooling down after a rigorous day of practice. “Akagi asked what we did for good luck before a game, not if we liked to make a clown of ourselves.”

“That’s the thing,” Atsumu continued, stretching on the floor without so much as a hitch, gym shorts riding up his thighs in an enticing way. “It’s what I do before a game to help me play better.”

This was intentional, targeted, and Osamu had to physically stop himself from reaching out and stroking his skin. “I don’t believe in luck,” their bold and brash ace continued, unmindful of the looks. “But when I play without underwear I just play— _better_ .” Their gazes lock for a split second, alarming the part in Osamu’s brain that said— _shit, I wanna fuck you right now._ “Maybe you should try it sometime, Sunarin.”

“Like hell, dumbass, I ain’t a weirdo.”

“It’s not like anyone’s gonna see ya.” Atsumu rolled his eyes, every bit defensive, as if he hadn’t just admitted to something humiliating. “It’s freeing.”

Akagi cut in with laughter, patting their setter’s shoulder. “You like your junk helicoptering around?”

The blonde smirked, not ashamed in the slightest. “I’m telling ya, try it before you judge me.” And his eyes danced back to Osamu’s for a split second, as if they’re meant to stay there. “It’s refreshing.”

The silver head swallowed, thickly, hiding the affect his brother’s words had on him. Fighting the assault of sensual thoughts that came pouring down on him, thoughts he wished he could act upon. It all clicked—Atsumu’s lingering gazes, his light touches, his suggestive tone, he was doing it all on purpose. Poking and prodding at sensitive areas to see how far he could take it, or perhaps it was a silent invitation— _I’m willing, see? There’s nothing there to get in the way._

Shaking his head, Osamu rose from the gym floor, wiping sweat off his chin with his jersey. “Yer an idiot, Tsumu.”

“Am I?” He countered, the tone alone, so teasing and tempting, almost like a low purr. Bastard knew exactly what he was doing, of the provocation he was brewing inside him, of the fact it was driving the silver head up the wall with need.

“Yeah,” he dismissed, grabbing his bag. “Let’s go home.”

The walk home was stagnant with silence, the heavy kind, one that breached your insides and pulled your stomach taunt. There were a million and one things Osamu wanted to say, all racing for release, none making it through. There was something about Atsumu today, he observed, something bold and in the air around him—his movements were slow, deliberate, almost decisive in a way. All pointing towards something he wanted, or better yet, craved.

“I’m taking a shower in mom and dad’s room, you can take one up stairs,” Atsumu said once they were home, not wasting another second or even waiting for a reply before leaving Osamu planted. Huh. Usually, he could gauge Atsumu’s movements, predict certain things about him, he was his twin brother after all, it came with the territory, but tonight was strange. Strange in the most exhilarating kind of way, and the anticipation was eating him.

Even after a steaming, hot shower, and while trying to focus on homework, thoughts of their sick intercourse flooded through him without remorse. He chewed on the end of his pencil, wondering what the hell was taking Atsumu so long, and when the blonde finally emerged, he could practically smell the pheromones wafting from him.

“No underwear, Atsumu? Really?” Osamu began, turning around to give his twin a pointed stare, only to receive a pang of need straight to his dick when he noticed the shorts his brother was wearing. His favorite pair of high-cut shorts, the red ones that hugged his thighs perfectly.

“Did you like the sound of it?” Atsumu questioned indecently, ambling towards his top bunk and stopping short on the stairs, bending over his bed, giving his twin brother a full view of his ass.

Osamu’s mouth watered at the sight, swallowing. His throat suddenly parched, wondering what he should say next. Instinctevely, his fists clenched, lavished by thought of ramming his cock inside already. His self control was slowly unhinging with every movement his brother made, and quite frankly, he was raptured by the sight.

“Christ, Tsumu,” he growled, the familiar pool of heat surrounding his loins, patients running thin. “Do ya wanna break me?”

Atsumu, ever the conniving one, glanced behind him and said, “Maybe, why? Do ya wanna fuck me?”

“You know I do.”

“Can I be honest?” Atsumu hopped off the ladder effortlessly, retrieving the unmistakable bottle of lubricant from his top bunk. Osamu’s heart sped. “I wanted you to fuck me at school, hence the no underwear, but I decided against it in the end.”

The spiker snapped out of his chair, standing firm and soldier-like as his brother neared. The hairs on the back of Osamu’s neck stood tall as his twin wrapped his arms around his nape, their cocks brushing.

“Samu, it’s been aching down here,” Atsumu said in a low whine, reaching down between them to nurture his own growing erection, and then switching to Osamu’s fully erect cock. “Look how tall yer standing already, I got you all worked up? It’s so thick now.” He dragged his fingers from the base, up, cupping him lovingly slow, sucking on the skin of his brother’s neck. “I want you to take care of the ache deep inside me, the one only your cock can reach.”

“I’m not yer slave.” Osamu played his game, knowing how much his twin strived on opposition, to make him fight for what he wanted. Though, a slow and intoxicating thrust from the other made him groan, hands snapping up to grasp at the waist he loved to knead like dough.

“You haven’t tasted me in a while, Samu,” Atsumu noted, hand inching inside his brother’s joggers, towards the source of his affliction, stroking his oversensitive dick. “Don’t you miss it? Fucking me? Didn’t you want to impregnate me?”

The force Osamu ususes to drag Atsumu against him is almost crushing, second-fast reflexes as he dove for Atsumu’s lips, drinking up his moan. “That’s—“ and his tone dropped, playing with his tongue, rough and husky. “That’s dangerous talking, Atsumu.” He’s prized with the feel of Atsumu turning them around so he’s bent over the desk, hands palming the surface with force as he begins to rut against Osamu’s erection. The silver head stood rooted to the spot, licking his lips as he cupped his brother’s waist with approval, urging him to continue rubbing and grinding his ass against him, stroking the heat inside him, giving more form to his cock.

“What’s gotten into you?” Osamu began, eyes half lidded while he snuck in a few thrust to loosen his tongue. “Not that I mind, because—fuck, you feel good, Tsumu, but I didn’t expect this.”

“What did you expect? Me begging you to ram me like a little school girl would?”

“Maybe.” And he trailed his fingers up his thighs, pushing up his shorts and really getting a feel of the smooth skin around his ass and lower thighs. “Warm. You really didn’t put on any underwear.”

Atsumu moaned when curious fingers grazed his hole, loud and unrestrained, arching his back languidly and continuing rattling everything on the desk. “S-Samu—fuck me already—ghnn,” he urged, shrugging out of his shirt with the help of his brother, who stuck a finger inside while doing so. “I want you to fuck me against the desk.”

“Against the desk?” Osamu acted as though he’s not up for the task, making his brother beg for his release as he pushed another finger in. “Do you want me to fail school? I was doing homework, you know.” He rolled his hips harder, allowing his twin to feel every inch of him twitching underneath, of how much he missed him; drunk off the sight and how vulnerable Atsumu was for him.

“Ah—who gives a fuck about homewo—“ The blonde’s words fall short as Osamu slipped his shorts down, guiding his pulsing cock between the supple mounds of his ass. “S-Samu!” Atsumu moaned, tongue darting out to tasting air, impatiently trying to drag him in.

“Aren’t we eager tonight?” Osamu teased, caging the other against the desk with both of his hands on either side of him. “If you want me to cum inside you, you gotta calm down and beg for it.”

“C—ah—can’t! I’ve been holding back this whole—ghhn—t-time!”

“Whose fault is that, hm?” His lips danced across Atsumu’s neck as he continued to rock against him, wanting to bite the surface with enough force to bruise. “Tsumu, let me mark you.”

“Ghn,” the blonde groaned against that insistent tongue that wouldn’t stop, the ache against his ass and the tightness of his shorts that were miraculously clinging on by a threat. “I-I’m yours,” he affirmed in a labored breath, trying his best to remain in control, slipping with each passing second. 

“Turn around, I wanna see your face,” Osamu demanded, wasting no time in turning his brother around himself, lifting him against the desk and spreading his legs, not at all concerned with the items underneath.

“I thought doggie was your favorite position?” Atsumu teased, his brother’s delicious bulge against his own now, the friction increasing as he snaked his legs around the trunk of his torso.

“I like to see your face when I enter you,” he admitted, finally slipping the remnants of Atsumu’s shorts off and holding still with praise. It’s been a while since he’s seen his brother so open and horny, so needy and ready to please; he missed it. The thought alone made him even thicker, if possible, dick aching to plunge inside the place he knew so well. Osamu groaned as familiar knees wrapped around his torso, inviting him into the warm nest of his brother’s sex, where it was so constricting and so exhilarating.

Who was he to deny him that release?

“Samu!!” Atsumu choked when he thrusted in, feeling his head slip passed his sensitive entrance, testing the waters since they hadn’t done it in a while. Instinctevely, the blonde closed his legs with force, edging him in further with every flick of Osamu’s pelvis until he bottomed out. “S-slowly—thrust in slowly…”

“Yer moanin’ and grindin’ against me and you expect me to go slow?” Osamu growled, head in the clouds, falling into rhythm with his brother who sucked his neck to compensate for the abrasive sensation of something thick and invasive inside him. “You aught to know better than anyone,” he panted, readjusting them against the desk, “ya can’t tease me like that and expect to get away with it.”

Atsumu gasped, insides screaming as his brother pounded inside him with renewed force. His nails dug into Osamu’s back with each thrust, and though the discomfort of being dragged against the desk repeatedly was annoying, it wasn’t enough to make him want to stop. Everything was perfect—the passion, the feeling, the wreckage, the anger, the pain, the yearning, the tension all culminating into an act of love and desire. Their passion flowed easily, settled in fértil soil, growing despite the dangerous terrain.

It was akin to a gift how good it felt to be fucked by Osamu, to lay open and beran for him, so much so that Atsumu couldn’t imagine doing this with anyone else. The heat surrounding his neglected cock leaked, expanding to every inch of his body from where they connected, kissing into that familiar mouth that he’d praise the heavens for creating.

Atsumu almost forgot how good it felt to be pounded into, how much he craved it, and how potent Osamu’s groans against him were. The feel of his body, the strength of his muscles, the thickness of his cock splitting him open, it was all he needed.

Unbeknownst to them, the figure who entered their house in that instant, silent in her arrival, without so much as a text or warning before she entered—their mother.

Unaware of the actions directly above her, she wandered into the living room, relieved when she was greeted by familiar surroundings after spending so much time at her mother’s house. With pride, Kyoko noted the overall cleanliness of both the living room and kitchen, knowing she could count on her boys to keep up with their added chores. They really did deserve a reward for their efforts, didn’t they? Perhaps a gift?

_Thud!_

Caught off guard, she stilled, straining her ears to pick up the fragments of what sounded like something knocking against the wall— _thud_! There it was again. Vaguely, she wondered if the boys were fighting, or perhaps Atsumu was working out like he often did in their room. Confused, she made the slow tread upstairs, stopping when the jarring sound of moaning entered her ears like shards of glass.

_What?_

_That sound—it couldn’t—_

Shaken, her breath ceased altogether, confused and anxious as the foreign sound of Atsumu’s groans slowly became clearer and clearer with every step she took. Angry blood replaced her initial confusion, shocked that Atsumu had the indecency to go behind her back again and bring another girl despite being forbidden to do so.

Enraged, Kyoko stomped the rest of the way upstairs, ready to burst through the boy's room when—her blood ran cold, gasp caught in her throat as she caught a glimpse of the contents inside the room through the crack of the door.

Anger ripened into horror.

Her gut twisted, color draining from her face as her boys—unaware of her presence—continued their vile acts. Bile and dread inched up her throat all at once, face housing an uncontrollable horror as she wrenched away. Kyoko took one step back, then another, the room tilting as she did so, eyes rolling to the back of her head as the pressure of accumulated misgivings finally caught up with her. Head hammering against the wall, she fell limp to the floor with a haunting— _thud!_


End file.
